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Love   Among    the   Artists 


Love  Among  the  Artists 


BY 


GEORGE  BERNARD  SHAW 

AUTHOR  OF   "  PLAYS  PLEASANT  AND  UNPLEASANT,"    "THE  PER- 
FECT    WAGNER1TE,"     "THREE     PLAYS     FOR      PURITANS,"     ETC. 


- 


- 


.  '      - 


HERBERT   S.  STONE    AND    COMPANY 

ELDRIDGE  COURT,  CHICAGO 

MDCCCC 


COPYRIGHT,     [900,     BY 

1.    rroNi   *  co 


OTHER     BOOKS    BY    M  R.    S  HAW 
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LOVE   AMONG    THE    ARTISTS 


THE  AUTHOR  TO  THE  READER. 

Dear  Sir  or  Madam: 

Will  you  allow  me  a  word  of  personal  explanation 
now  that  I  am,  for  the  second  time,  offering  you  a 
novel  which  is  not  the  outcome  of  my  maturer  experi- 
ence and  better  sense?  If  you  have  read  my  "Irra- 
tional Knot"  to  the  bitter  end,  you  will  not  accuse  me 
of  mock  modesty  when  I  admit  that  it  was  very  long; 
that  it  did  not  introduce  you  to  a  single  person  you 
could  conceivably  have  been  glad  to  know;  and  that 
your  knowledge  of  the  world  must  have  forewarned 
you  that  no  satisfactory  ending  was  possible.  You 
may,  it  is  true,  think  that  a  story  teller  should  not  let 
a  question  of  mere  possibility  stand  between  his  audi- 
ence and  the  satisfaction  of  a  happy  ending.  Yet 
somehow  my  conscience  stuck  at  it;  for  I  am  not  a 
professional  liar:  I  am  even  ashamed  of  the  extent  to 
which  in  my  human  infirmity  I  have  been  an  amateur 
one.  No :  my  stories  were  meant  to  be  true  ex  Jiypo- 
thesi:  the  persons  were  fictitious;  but  had  they  been 
real,  they  must  (or  so  I  thought  at  the  time)  have  acted 
as  I  said.  For,  if  you  can  believe  such  a  prodigy,  I 
was  but  an  infant  of  twenty-four  when,  being  at  that 
time,  one  of  the  unemployed,  I  sat  down  to  mend  my 

v 

st  \  O  7  ^  A 


vi  Love  Among  the  Artists 

straitened  fortunes  by  writing  "The  Irrational  Knot." 
I  had  done  the  same  thing  once  before;  and  next  year, 
still  unemployed,  I  did   it  in.      That  third  attempt 

of  mine  is  about   to  see  the  light   in    this    volume. 
And  now  a  few  words  of  warning  to  you  before  you 
begin  it. 

i.  Though  the  wisdom  of  the  book  is  the  fruit  of  a 
quarter  century's  experience,  yet  the  earlier  years  of 
that  period  were  much  preoccupied  with  questions  of 
bodily  growth  and  nutrition;  so  that  it  may  be  as  well 
to  bear  in  mind  that  "even  the  youngest  of  us  may  be 
wrong  sometimes. "  2.  "Love  among  the  Artists"  is 
what   is   called   a   novel    with    a    par;  I    will    not 

undertake  to  say  at  this  distant  me  what  the  main 

purpose  was;  but  I  remember  that  I  had  a  notion  of 
illustrating  the  difference  between  that  enthusiasm  for 
the  fine  arts  which  people  gather  from  reading  about 
them,  and  the  genuine  artistic  faculty  which  cannot 
help   creating,    interpreting,    •  t    unaffectedly 

enjoying  music  and  pictures.  3.  This  book  has  no 
winding-up  at  the  end.  Mind:  it  is  not,  as  in  "The 
Irrational    Knot,"  a  of  the  Upshot   being  unsatis- 

factory! There  is  absolutely  no  upshot  at  all.  The 
parties  are  married  in  the  middle  of  the  book  ;  and  they 
do  not  elope  with  or  divorce  one  another,  or  do  any- 
thing unusual  or  improper.  When  as  much  is  told 
concerning  them  as  seemed  to  me  at  the  time  germane 
to  my  purpose,  the  novel  breaks  off.  Eat  if  you  pre- 
fer something  more  conclusive,  pray  do  not  scruple  to 
add  a  final  chapter  of  your  own  invention.  4.  If  you 
find  yourself  displeased  with  my  story,  remember  that 
it  is  not  I,  but  the  generous  and  appreciative  publisher 
of  the  book,  wTho  puts  it  forward  as  worth  reading. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  vii 

I  shall  polish  it  up  for  you  the  best  way  I  can,  and 
here  and  there  remove  some  absurdity  out  of  which  I 
have  grown  since  I  wrote  it,  but  I  cannot  substan- 
tially improve  it,  much  less  make  it  what  a  novel  ought 
to  be;  for  I  have  given  up  novel  writing  these  many 
years,  during  which  I  have  lost  the  impudence  of  the 
apprentice  without  gaining  the  skill  of  the  master. 

There  is  an  end  to  all  things,  even  to  stocks  of 
unpublished  manuscript.  It  may  be  a  relief  to  you  to 
know  that  when  this  "Love  among  the  Artists"  shall 
have  run  its  course,  you  need  apprehend  no  more  fur- 
bished-up  early  attempts  at  fiction  from  me.  I  have 
written  but  five  novels  in  my  life ;  and  of  these  there 
will  remain  then  unpublished  only  the  first — a  very 
remarkable  work,  I  assure  you,  but  hardly  one  which 
I  should  be  well  advised  in  letting  loose  whilst  my 
livelihood  depends  on  my  credit  as  a  literary  workman. 

I  can  recall  a  certain  difficulty,  experienced  even 
whilst  I  was  writing  the  book,  in  remembering  what  it 
was  about.  Twice  I  clean  forgot  the  beginning,  and 
had  to  read  back,  as  I  might  have  read  any  other 
man's  novel,  to  learn  the  story.  If  I  could  not  remem- 
ber then,  how  can  I  presume  on  my  knowledge  of  the 
book  now  so  far  as  to  make  promises  about  it?  But  I 
suspect  you  will  find  yourself  in  less  sordid  company 
than  that  into  which  "The  Irrational  Knot"  plunged 
you.  And  I  can  guarantee  you  against  any  plot.  You 
will  be  candidly  dealt  with.  None  of  the  characters 
will  turn  out  to  be  somebody  else  in  the  last  chapter : 
no  violent  accidents  or  strokes  of  pure  luck  will  divert 
events  from  their  normal  course:  forger,  long  lost 
heir,  detective,  nor  any  commonplace  of  the  police 
court  or  of  the  realm  of  romance  shall  insult  your 


viii  Love  Among  the  Artists 

understanding",  or  tempt  you  to  read  on  when  you 
might  better  be  in  bed  or  attending  to  your  business. 
By  this  time  you  should  be  eager  to  be  at  the  story. 
Meanwhile  I  must  not  forget  that  it  is  only  by  your 
exeeptional  indulgence  that  I  have  been  suffered  to 
detain  you  so  long  about  a  personal  matter;  and  so  I 
thank  you  and  proceed  to  business. 

29,  Fitzroy  Square,  London,  W. 


BOOK  I 


J 


CHAPTER   I 

One  fine  afternoon  during  the  Easter  holidays,  Ken- 
sington Gardens  were  in  their  freshest  spring  green, 
and  the  steps  of  the  Albert  Memorial  dotted  with 
country  visitors,  who  alternately  conned  their  guide- 
books and  stared  up  at  the  golden  gentleman  under 
the  shrine,  trying  to  reconcile  the  reality  with  the  des- 
cription, whilst  their  Cockney  friends,  indifferent  to 
shrine  and  statue,  gazed  idly  at  the  fashionable  drive 
below.  One  group  in  particular  was  composed  of  an 
old  gentleman  intent  upon  the  Memorial,  a  young  lady 
intent  upon  her  guide-book,  and  a  young  gentleman 
intent  upon  the  young  lady.  She  looked  a  woman  of 
force  and  intelligence;  and  her  boldly  curved  nose  and 
chin,  elastic  step,  upright  carriage,  resolute  bearing, 
and  thick  black  hair,  secured  at  the  base  of  the  neck 
by  a  broad  crimson  ribbon,  made  those  whom  her 
appearance  pleased  think  her  strikingly  handsome. 
The  rest  thought  her  strikingly  ugly;  but  she  would 
perhaps  have  forgiven  them  for  the  sake  of  the  implied 
admission  that  she  was  at  least  not  commonplace ;  for 
her  costume,  consisting  of  an  ample  black  cloak  lined 
with  white  fur,  and  a  broad  hat  with  red  feather  and 
underbrim  of  sea  green  silk,  was  of  the  sort  affected 
by  women  who  strenuously  cultivate  themselves,  and 
insist  upon  their  individuality.  She  was  not  at  all  like 
her  father,  the  grey-haired  gentleman  who,  scanning 
the  Memorial  with  eager  watery  eyes,  was  uttering 
occasional  ejaculations  of  wonder  at  the  sum  it  must 

5 


;  Among  the  Artists 

■ 

ha-.-,  cost  yoilhger  man,  who  might  have  been 

thirty  or  thereabout,  was  slight  and  of  moderate 
stature.  His  fine  hair,  of  a  pale  golden  color,  already 
turning  to  a  silvery  brown,  curled  delicately  over  his 
temples,  where  it  was  beginning  to  wear  away.  A 
short  beard  set  off  his  features,  which  were  those  of  a 
man  ptional  sensitiveness  and  refinement.      He 

was  the  Londoner  of  the  party;  and  he  waited  with 
devoted  patience  whilst  his  companions  satisfied  their 
curiosity.  It  was  pleasant  to  watch  them,  for  he  was 
not  gloating  over  her,  nor  she  too  conscious  that  she 
was  making  the  sunshine  brighter  for  him;  and  yet 
they  were  quite  evidently  young  lovers,  and  as  happy 
as  people  at  their  age  know  how  to  be. 

At  last  the  old  gentleman's  appetite  for  the  Memorial 
yielded    to   the    fatigue   of   standing  on  th<  ps 

and  looking  upwards.  He  proposed  that  they  should 
find  a  seat  and  examine  the  edifice  from  a  little  distance. 

"I  think  I  see  a  bench  down  there  with  only  one 
person  on  it,  Mary,"  he  said,  as  they  descended  the 
steps  at  the  west  side.  "Can  you  see  whether  he  is 
pectable?" 

The  young  lady,  who  was  shortsighted,  placed  a  pair 
of  glasses  on  her  salient  nose,  lifted  her  chin,  and 
deliberately  examined  the  person  on  the  bench.  He 
was  a  short,  thick-chested  young  man,  in  an  old 
creased  frock  coat,  with  a  worn-out  hat  and  no  linen 
visible.  His  skin,  pitted  by  smallpox,  seemed  grained 
with  black,  as  though  he  had  been  lately  in  a  coal- 
mine, and  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  towelling  the 
coal-dust  from  his  pores.  He  sat  with  his  arms  folded, 
staring  at  the  ground  before  him.  One  hand  was  con- 
cealed under  his  arm :  the  other  displayed  itself,  thick 


Love  Among  the  Artists  7 

in  the  palm,  with  short  fingers,  and  nails  bitten  to  the 
quick.  He  was  clean  shaven,  and  had  a  rugged,  reso- 
lute mouth,  a  short  nose,  marked  nostrils,  dark  eyes, 
and  black  hair,  which  curled  over  his  low,  broad 
forehead. 

"He  is  certainly  not  a  handsome  man,"  said  the 
lady;  "but  he  will  do  us  no  harm,  I  suppose?" 

"Of  course  not,"  said  the  younger  gentleman  seri- 
ously. "But  I  can  get  some  chairs,  if  you  prefer 
them." 

"Nonsense!  I  was  only  joking."  As  she  spoke,  the 
man  on  the  bench  looked  up  at  her;  and  the  moment 
she  saw  his  eyes,  she  began  to  stand  in  some  awe  of 
him.  His  vague  stare  changed  to  a  keen  scrutiny, 
which  she  returned  hardily.  Then  he  looked  for  a 
moment  at  her  dress;  glanced  at  her  companions; 
and  relapsed  into  his  former  attitude. 

The  bench  accommodated  four  persons  easily.  The 
old  gentleman  sat  at  the  unoccupied  end,  next  his 
daughter.  Their  friend  placed  himself  between  her 
and  the  man,  at  whom  she  presently  stole  another  look. 
His  attention  was  again  aroused:  this  time  he  was 
looking  at  a  child  who  was  eating  an  apple  near  him. 
His  expression  gave  the  lady  an  uncomfortable  sensa- 
tion. The  child,  too,  caught  sight  of  him,  and  stopped 
eating  to  regard  him  mistrustfully.  He  smiled  with 
grim  good  humor,  and  turned  his  eyes  to  the  gravel 
once  more. 

"It  is  certainly  a  magnificent  piece  of  work,  Her- 
bert," said  the  old  gentleman.  "To  you,  as  an  artist, 
it  must  be  a  treat  indeed.  I  don't  know  enough  about 
art  to  appreciate  it  properly.  Bless  us!  And  are  all 
those  knobs  made  of  precious  stones?" 


8  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"More  or  less  precious:  yes,  I  believe  so,  Mr.  Suth- 
erland," said  Herbert,  smiling-. 

"I  must  come  and  look  at  it  again,"  said  Mr.  Suth- 
erland, turning  from  the  memorial,  and  putting  his 
spectacles  on  the  bench  beside  him.  "It  is  quite  a  study. 
I  wish   I  had  this  business  of  Charlie's  off  my  mind." 

"You  will  find  a  tutor  for  him  without  any  diffi- 
culty," said  Herbert.  "There  are  hundreds  to  choose 
from  in  London. " 

"Yes;  but  if  there  were  a  thousand,  Charlie  would 
find  a  new  objection  to  every  one  of  them.  You  see 
the  difficulty  is  the  music. ' ' 

Herbert,  incommoded  by  a  sudden  movement  of  the 
strange  man,  got  a  little  nearer  to  Mary,  and  replied, 
"I  do  not  think  the  music  ought  to  present  much  diffi- 
culty. Many  young  men  qualifying  for  holy  orders 
are  very  glad  to  obtain  private  tutorships;  and  nowa- 
days a  clergyman  is  expected  to  have  some  knowl 
of  music." 

"Yes."  said  the  lady;  "but  what  is  the  use  of  that 
when  Charlie  expressly  objects  to  clergymen?  I  sym- 
pathize with  him  there,  for  once.  Divinity  students 
are  too  narrow  and  dogmatic  to  be  comfortable  to  live 
with." 

"There  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sutherland,  suddenly 
indignant:  "you  are  beginning  to  make  objections. 
Do  you  expect  to  get  an  angel  from  heaven  to  teach 
Charlie?" 

"No,  papa;  but  I  doubt  if  anything  less  will  satisfy 
him." 

"I  will  speak  to  some  of  ray  friends  about  it,"  said 
Herbert.  "There  is  no  hurry  for  a  week  or  two,  I 
suppose?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  9 

"Oh,  no,  none  whatever,"  said  Mr.  Sutherland, 
ostentatiously  serene  after  his  outbreak:  "there  is  no 
hurry  certainly.  But  Charlie  must  not  be  allowed  to 
contract  habits  of  idleness;  and  if  the  matter  cannot 
be  settled  to  his  liking,  I  shall  exert  my  authority,  and 
select  a  tutor  myself.  I  cannot  understand  his  objec- 
tion to  the  man  we  saw  at  Archdeacon  Downes's.  Can 
you,  Mary?" 

"I  can  understand  that  Charlie  is  too  lazy  to  work," 
said  Mary.  Then,  as  if  tired  of  the  subject,  she  turned 
to  Herbert,  and  said,  "You  have  not  yet  told  us  when 
we  may  come  to  your  studio  and  see  The  Lady  of 
Shalott.  I  am  very  anxious  to  see  it.  I  shall  not  mind 
its  being  unfinished." 

"But  I  shall,"  said  Herbert,  suddenly  becoming 
self-conscious  and  nervous.  "I  fear  the  picture  will 
disappoint  you  in  any  case;  but  at  least  I  wish  it  to  be 
as  good  as  I  can  make  it,  before  you  see  it.  I  must 
ask  you  to  wait  until  Thursday. ' ' 

"Certainly,  if  you  like,"  said  Mary  earnestly.  She 
was  about  to  add  something,  when  Mr.  Sutherland, 
who  had  become  somewhat  restive  when  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  pictures,  declared  that  he  had  sat 
long  enough.  So  they  rose  to  go ;  and  Mary  turned  to 
get  a  last  glimpse  of  the  man.  He  was  looking  at 
them  with  a  troubled  expression;  and  his  lips  were 
white.  She  thought  he  was  about  to  speak,  and  invol- 
untarily retreated  a  step.  But  he  said  nothing:  only 
she  was  struck,  as  he  composed  himself  in  his  old 
attitude,  by  his  extreme  dejection. 

"Did  you  notice  that  man  sitting  next  you?"  she 
whispered  to  Herbert,  when  they  had  gone  a  little 
distance. 


io  Love  Among  the  Artists 


Not  particularly. " 

Do  you  think  he  is  very  poor?" 

14 He  certainly  does  not  appear  to  be  very  rich,"  said 
Herbert,  looking-  back. 

"I  saw  a  very  odd  look  in  his  eyes.  I  hope  he  is 
not  hungry." 

They  stopped.  Then  Herbert  walked  slowly  on. 
"I  should  think  not  so  bad  as  that,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
think  his  appearance  would  justify  me  in  offering 
him " 

"Oh,  dear,  dear  me!"  said  Mr.  Sutherland.  "I  am 
very  stupid." 

"What  is  the  matter  now,  papa?" 

"I  have  lost  my  glasses.  I  must  have  left  them  on 
that  seat.  Just  wait  (me  moment  whilst  I  g<>  back  for 
them.  No,  no,  Herbert:  I  will  go  back  myself.  I 
recollect  exactly  where  I  laid  them  down.  I  shall  be 
back  in  a  moment. " 

"Papa  always  takes  the  most  exact  notes  of  the 
places  in  which  he  puts  things;  and  he  always  leaves 
them  behind  him  after  all,"  said  Mary.  "There  is 
that  man  in  preeisely  the  same  position  as  when  we 
first  saw  him." 

"No.     He  is  saying  something  to  your  father, 
gang,  I  am  afraid,  or  he  would  not  stand  up  and  lift  his 
hat" 

"How  dreadful!" 

Herbert  laughed.  "If,  as  you  suspected,  he  is 
hungry,  there  is  nothing  very  dreadful  in  it,  poor 
fellow.      It  is  natural  enough." 

"I  did  not  mean  that.  I  meant  that  it  was  dreadful 
to  think  of  his  being  forced  to  beg.  Papa  has  not 
given  him  anything — I  wish  he  would.     He  evidently 


Love  Among  the  Artists  n 

wants  to  get  rid  of  him,  and,  of  course,  does  not  know 
how  to  do  it.     Let  us  go  back. " 

41  If  you  wish,"  said  Herbert,  reluctantly.  "But  I 
warn  you  that  London  is  full  of  begging  impos- 
tors." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Sutherland,  finding  his  spectacles 
where  he  had  left  them,  took  them  up;  wiped  them 
with  his  handkerchief;  and  was  turning  away,  when 
he  found  himself  confronted  by  the  strange  man,  who 
had  risen. 

"Sir,"  said  the  man,  raising  his  shabby  hat,  and 
speaking  in  a  subdued  voice  of  remarkable  power:  "I 
have  been  a  tutor;  and  I  am  a  musician.  I  can  con- 
vince you  that  I  am  an  honest  and  respectable  man. 
I  am  in  need  of  emplo3^ment.  Something  I  overheard 
just  now  leads  me  to  hope  that  you  can  assist  me.  I 
will" Here  the  man,  though  apparently  self- 
possessed,  stopped  as  if  his  breath  had  failed  him. 

Mr.  Sutherland's  first  impulse  was  to  tell  the 
stranger  stiffly  that  he  had  no  occasion  for  his  services. 
But  as  there  were  no  bystanders,  and  the  man's  gaze 
was  impressive,  he  became  nervous,  and  said  hastily, 
"Oh,  thank  you:  I  have  not  decided  what  I  shall  do  as 
yet."     And  he  attempted  to  pass  on. 

The  man  immediately  stepped  aside,  saying,  "If 
you  will  favor  me  with  your  address,  sir,  I  can  send 
you  testimonials  which  will  prove  that  I  have  a  right 
to  seek  such  a  place  as  you  describe.  If  they  do  not 
satisfy  you,  I  shall  trouble  you  no  further.  Or  if  you 
will  be  so  good  as  to  accept  my  card,  you  can  consider 
at  your  leisure  whether  to  communicate  with  me  or 
not. ' ' 

Certainly,  I  will  take  your  card, ' '  said  Mr.  Suther- 


< ' 


12  Love  Among  the  Artists 


o 


land,  flurried  and  conciliatory.  "Thank  you.  I  can 
write  to  you,  you,  know,  if  I — ■ — " 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you."  Here  he  produced 
an  ordinary  visiting  card,  with  the  name  "Mr.  Owen 
Jack"  engraved,  and  an  address  at  Church  Street, 
Kensington,  written  in  a  crabbed  but  distinct  hand  in 
the  corner.  Whilst  Mr.  Sutherland  was  pretending  to 
read  it,  his  dar  r  came  up,  purse  in  hand,  hurrying 

before  Herbert,  whose  charity  she  wished  to  forestall. 
Mr.  Owen  Jack  looked  at  her;  and  she  hid  her  purse 
quickly.  "I  am  sorry  to  have  delayed  you,  sir,"  he 
said.  "Good  morning."  He  raised  his  hat  again,  and 
walked  away. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sutherland.  "Lord 
bless  me!  that's  a  cool  fellow,"  he  added,  recovering 
himself,  and  beginning  to  feel  ashamed  of  having  been 
so  courteous  to  a  poorly  dressed  stranger. 

"What  did  he  want,  papa?" 

"Indeed,  my  dear,  he  has  shown  me  that  we  cannot 
be  too  careful  of  how  we  talk  before  Strangers  in  Lon- 
don. By  the  purest  accident — the  merest  chance,  I 
happened,  whilst  we  were  sitting  h<  five  minutes 
ago,  to  mention  that  we  wanted  a  tutor  for  Charlie. 
This  man  was  listening  to  us;  and  now  he  has  offered 
himself  for  the  place.  Just  fancy  the  quickness  of 
that.      Here  is  his  card.  " 

"Owen  Jack!"  said  Mary.     "What  a  name!" 

"Did  he  overhear  anything  about  the  musical  diffi- 
culty?" said  Herbert.  "Nature  does  not  seem  to  have 
formed  Mr.  Jack  for  the  pursuit  of  a  fine  art. " 

"Yes:  he  caught  up  even  that.  According  to  his 
own  account,  he  understands  music — in  fact  he  can  do 
everything." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  13 

Mary  looked  thoughtful.  "After  all,"  she  said 
slowly,  "he  might  suit  us.  He  is  certainly  not  hand- 
some; but  he  does  not  seem  stupid;  and  he  would 
probably  not  want  a  large  salary.  I  think  Archdeacon 
Downes's  man's  terms  are  perfectly  ridiculous." 

"I  am  afraid  it  would  be  rather  a  dangerous  experi- 
ment to  give  a  responsible  post  to  an  individual  whom 
we  have  chanced  upon  in  a  public  park,"  said  Herbert. 

"Oh!  out  of  the  question,"  said  Mr.  Sutherland. 
"I  only  took  his  card  as  the  shortest  way  of  getting 
rid  of  him.     Perhaps  I  was  wrong  to  do  even  that. ' ' 

"Of  course  we  should  have  to  make  inquiries,"  said 
Mary.  "Somehow,  I  cannot  get  it  out  of  my  head 
that  he  is  in  very  bad  circumstances.  He  migJit  be  a 
gentleman.     He  does  not  look  common." 

"I  agree  with  you  so  far,"  said  Herbert.  "And  I 
am  not  sorry  that  such  models  are  scarce.  But  of 
course  you  are  quite  right  in  desiring  to  assist  this 
man,  if  he  is  unfortunate." 

"Engaging  a  tutor  is  a  very  commonplace  affair," 
said  Mary;  "but  we  may  as  well  do  some  good  by  it  if 
we  can.  Archdeacon  Downes's  man  is  in  no  immedi- 
ate want  of  a  situation:  he  has  dozens  of  offers  to 
choose  from.  Why  not  give  the  place  to  whoever  is 
in  the  greatest  need  of  it?" 

"Very  well,"  cried  Mr.  Sutherland.  "Send  after 
him  and  bring  him  home  at  once  in  a  carriage  and 
pair,  since  you  have  made  up  your  mind  not  to  hear  to 
reason  on  the  subject." 

"After  all,"  interposed  Herbert,  "it  will  do  no  harm 
to  make  a  few  inquiries.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will 
take  the  matter  in  hand,  so  as  to  prevent  all  possibility 
of  his  calling  on  or  disturbing  you.     Give  me  his  card. 


14  Love  Among  the  Artists 

I  will  write  to  him  for  his  testimonials  and  references, 
and  so  forth;  and  if  anything-  comes  of  it,  I  can  then 
hand  him  over  to  you." 

Mary  locked  gratefully  at  him,  and  said,  "Do,  papa. 
Let  Mr.  Herbert  write.  It  cannot  possibly  do  any 
harm;  and  it  will  be  no  trouble  to  yon." 

"I  do  not  object  to  the  trouble/'  said  Mr.  Suther- 
land. "I  have  taken  the  trouble  of  coming  Up  to 
London,  all  the  way  from  Wind  .  v,  solely  for 

Charlie's  sake.  However,  Herbert,  perhaps  you  could 
manage  the  affair  better  than  I.  In  fact,  I  should 
prefer  to  remain  in  the  background.  But  then  your 
time  is  valuable " 

"It  will  cost  me  only  a  few  minutes  to  write  the 
necessary  letters — minutes  that  would  be  no  better 
spent  in  any  case.  I  assure  you  it  will  be  practically 
no  trouble  to  me.  " 

"There,  papa.  Now  we  have  settled  that  point,  let 
us  n   to  the    N    '     nal   Gallery.      I   wish  we   were 

going  to  your  studio  instead." 

"You  must  not  ask  for  that  yet,"  said  Herbert 
earnestly.  "I  promise  you  a  special  private  view  of 
'The  Lady  of  Shalotf  on  Thursday  next  at  latest." 


CHAPTER   II 

Alton  College,  Lyvern. 
Sir, — In  answer  to  your  letter  of  the  12th  instant,  I 
am  instructed  by  Miss  Wilson  to  inform  you  that  Mr. 
Jack  was  engaged  here  for  ten  months  as  professor  of 
music  and  elocution.  At  the  end  of  that  period  he 
refused  to  impart  any  further  musical  instruction,  to 
three  young  ladies  who  desired  a  set  of  finishing 
lessons.  He  therefore  considered  himself  bound  to 
vacate  his  post,  though  Miss  Wilson  desires  me  to 
state  expressly  that  she  did  not  insist  on  that  course. 
She  has  much  pleasure  in  testifying  to  the  satisfactory 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Jack  maintained  his  authority 
in  the  school.  He  is  an  exacting  teacher,  but  a  patient 
and  thoroughly  capable  one.  During  his  stay  at 
Alton  College,  his  general  conduct  was  irreproachable, 
and  his  marked  personal  influence  gained  for  him  the 
respect  and  good  wishes  of  his  pupils. 

I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

Phillis  Ward,  F.C.P.,  etc. 

14  West  Precinct,  Lipport  Cathedral, 
South  Wales. 
Sir, — Mr.  Owen  Jack  is  a  native  of  this  town,  and 
was,  in  his  boyhood,  a  member  of  the  Cathedral  Choir. 
He  is  respectably  connected,  and  is  personally  known 
to  me  as  a  strictly  honorable  young  man.  He  has 
musical  talent  of  a  certain  kind,  and  is  undoubtedly 
qualified  to  teach  the  rudiments  of  music,  though  he 
never,  whilst  under  our  guidance,  gave  any  serious 
consideration  to  the  higher  forms  of  composition — 
more,  I  should  add,  from  natural  inaptitude  than  from 
want  of  energy  and  perseverance.  I  should  be  glad  to 
hear  of  his  obtaining  a  good  position. 

Yours  truly, 

John  Burton,  Mus.  Doc,  Ox. 

15 


i6  Love  Amone  the  Artists 


■-" 


These  were  the  replies  to  the  inquiries  about  Mr. 
Jack. 

On   Thursday  afternoon   Herbert    stood    before    his 

sel,  watching  the  light  changing  on  his  picture  as 
the  clouds  shifted  in  the  wind.  At  moments  when  the 
eflect  on  the  color  pleased  him,  he  wished  that  Mary 
'ild  enter  and  see  it  so  at  her  first  glance.  But  as 
the  afternoon  v  it  became  duller;  and  when  she  at 

last  arrived,  he  felt  sorry  he  had  not  appointed  one 
o'clock  in  c  was  accompanied  by  a 

tall  lad  of  sixteen,  with  light  blue  eyes,  fair  hair,  and 
an  expr<  i  of  irreverent  [        '.  humor. 

"How  do  you   d  lid    Herbert.       "Take   care   of 

those  sketches,  Charlie,  i  Llow.     They  are  wet." 

"Papa  felt  very  tired:  he  thought  it  best  to  lie  down 
for  a  little,"  said  Mary,  throwing  oil  her  cloak  and 
appearing  in  a  hi  marmalade-colored 

silk.     "He  Lea        the  arrangements  with  Mr.  Jack  to 

u.      1  suspect   the  dread  of  having  to  confront  that 

mysterious  stranj  -in  had  something  to  do  with 

his  fatigue,     [s  the  La  halott  ready  to  be  seen?" 

1  ne  light  i  L,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  said   Herbert, 

lingering  whilst  Mary  made  a  movement  towards  the 

.   el. 

"Don't  push  into  the  room  like  that,  Mary,"  said 
Charlie.  "Arties  always  have  models  in  their  studios. 
Give  the  young  lady  time  to  dress  herself." 

"There  is  a  gleam  of  sunshine  now,"  said  Herbert, 
gravely  ignoring  the  lad.  "Better  have  your  first 
look  at  it  while  it  lasts." 

Mary  placed  herself  before  the  easel,  and  gazed 
earnestly  at  it,  finding  that  expression  the  easiest  mask 
for  a  pang  of  disappointment  which  followed  her  first 


Love  Among  the  Artists  17 

glance  at  the  canvas.  Herbert  did  not  interrupt  hei 
for  some  moments.  Then  he  said  in  a  low  voice :  "You 
understand  her  action,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes.  She  has  just  seen  the  reflexion  of  Lancelot's 
figure  in  the  mirror ;  and  she  is  turning  round  to  look 
at  the  reality." 

"She  has  a  deuce  of  a  scraggy  collar-bone,"  said 
Charlie. 

"Oh,  hush,  Charlie,"  cried  Mary,  dreading  that  her 
brother  might  roughly  express  her  own  thoughts. 
"It  seems  quite  right  to  me." 

"The  action  of  turning  to  look  over  her  shoulder 
brings  out  the  clavicle,"  said  Herbert,  smiling.  "It 
is  less  prominent  in  the  picture  than  it  would  be  in 
nature :  I  had  to  soften  it  a  little. ' ' 

"Why  didn't  you  paint  her  in  some  other  attitude?" 
said  Charlie. 

"Because  I  happened  to  be  aiming  at  the  seizure  of 
a  poetic  moment,  and  not  at  the  representation  of  a 
pretty  bust,  my  critical  young  friend,"  said  Herbert 
quietly.  "I  think  you  are  a  little  too  close  to  the  can- 
vas, Miss  Sutherland.  Remember:  the  picture  is  not 
quite  finished." 

"She  can't  see  anything  unless  she  is  close  to  it," 
said  Charlie.  "In  fact,  she  never  can  get  close  enough, 
because  her  nose  is  longer  than  her  sight.  I  don't 
understand  that  window  up  there  above  the  woman's 
head.  In  reality  there  would  be  nothing  to  see 
through  it  except  the  sky.  But  there  is  a  river,  and 
flowers,  and  a  man  from  the  Lord  Mayor's  show.  Are 
they  up  on  a  mountain?" 

"Charlie,  please  stop.     How  can  you  be  so  rude?" 

"Oh,  I  am  accustomed  to  criticism,"  said  Herbert. 


1 8  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"You  are  a  born  critic,  Charlie,  since  you  cannot 
distinguish  a  mirror  from  a  window.  I  hive  you  never 
read  your  Tennyson?" 

"Read  Tennyson!  I  should  think  not.  What 
sensible  man  would  wade  through  the  adventures  of 
King  Arthur  and  his  knights?  I  >ne  would  think  that 
Don  Quixote  had  put  a  stop  to  that  style  of  nonsense. 
Who  was  the  Lady  of  Shalott?  One  of  Sir  Lancelot's, 
or  Sir  Galahad's,  or  Sir  Somebod  yelse's  young  women, 
I  suppose." 

"Do  not  mind  him,  Mr.  Herbert.  It  is  pure  affec- 
tation,     lie  kn«»ws  perfectly  well." 

"I  don't,"  said  Charlie;  "and  what's  more,  I  don't 
believe  you  know  either." 

"The  Lady  of  Shalott,"  said  Herbert,  "had  a  task 
to  perform ;  and  whilst  she  was  at  work  upon  it,  she 
was,  on  pain  of  a  curse,  only  to  see  the  outer  world  as 
it  was  reflected  by  a  mirror  which  hung  above  her 
head.  One  day,  Sir  Lancelot  rode  by;  and  when  she 
saw  his  image  she  forgot  the  curse  and  turned  to  look 
at  him." 

"Very    interesting    and    sensible,"    said    Charlie. 

"Why  mightn't  she  as  well  have  looked  at  the  world 
Straight  off  out  of  the  window,  as  seen  it  left  handed 
in  a  mirror?  The  notion  of  a  woman  spending  her  life 
making  a  Turkey  carpet  is  considered  poetic,  I  sup- 
pose.    Whai  happened  when  she  looked  round?" 

"Ah,  I  see  you  are  interested.  Nothing  happened, 
except  that  the  mirror  broke  and  the  lady  died." 

"Yes,  and  then  got  into  a  boat;  rowed  herself  down 
to  Hampton  Court  into  the  middle  of  a  water  party; 
and  arranged  her  corpse  in  an  attitude  for  the  benefit 
of  Lancelot.      I've  seen  a  picture  of  that." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  19 

"I  see  you  do  know  something  about  Tenny- 
son. Now,  Miss  Sutherland,  what  is  your  honest 
opinion?" 

"I  think  it  is  beautiful.  The  coloring  seemed  rather 
dull  to  me  at  first,  because  I  had  been  thinking  of  the 
river  bank,  the  golden  grain,  the  dazzling  sun,  the 
gorgeous  loom,  the  armor  of  Sir  Lancelot,  instead  of 
the  Lady  herself.  But  now  that  I  have  grasped  your 
idea,  there  is  a  certain  sadness  and  weakness  about 
her  that  is  very  pathetic." 

"Do  you  think  the  figure  is  weak?"  said  Herbert 
dubiously. 

"Not  really  weak,"  replied  Mary  hastily.  "I  mean 
that  the  weakness  proper  to  her  story  is  very  touch- 
ingly  expressed." 

"She  means  that  it  is  too  sober  and  respectable  for 
her, "  said  Charlie.  "She  likes  screaming  colors.  If 
you  had  dressed  the  lady  in  red  and  gold ;  painted  the 
Turkey  carpet  in  full  bloom ;  and  made  Lancelot  like 
a  sugar  stick,  she  would  have  liked  it  better.  That 
armor,  by  the  bye,  would  be  the  better  for  a  rub  of 
emery  paper."    • 

"Armor  is  hard  to  manage,  particularly  in  distance, ' ' 
said  Herbert.  "Here  I  had  to  contend  with  the 
additional  difficulty  of  not  making  the  reflexion  in  the 
mirror  seem  too  real." 

"You  seem  to  have  got  over  that  pretty  success- 
fully," said  Charlie. 

"Yes,"  said  Mary.  "There  is  a  certain  unreality 
about  the  landscape  and  the  figure  in  armor  that  I 
hardly  understood  at  first.  The  more  I  strive  to 
exercise  my  judgment  upon  art,  the  more  I  feel  my 
ignorance.     I  wish  you  would  always  tell  me  when  I 


20  Love  Amon£  the  Artists 


o 


make  foolish  comments.     There  is  someone  knocking, 
I  think." 

"It  is  only  the  housekeeper,"  said  Herbert,  opening 
the  door. 

"Mr.  Jack,  sir,"  said  the  housekeeper. 

"Dear  me!  we  must  have  been  very  late,"  said 
Mary.  "It  is  four  o'clock.  Now  Charlie,  pray 
behave  like  a  gentleman." 

"I    suppose    he    had    D4  come    in   here,"    said 

Herbert.     "( >r  would  you  rather  not  meet  him?" 

"(  >h,  I  must  meet  him.  Papa  told  me  particularly 
to  s]      k  to  him  myself." 

Mr.  Jack  was  accordingly  shewn  in  by  the  house- 
keep-  .is  time,  Ik  nen — a  clean  collar; 
and  he  carried  a  new  hat.  He  made  a  formal  bow, 
and  looked  at  the  artist  and  his  i  its,  who  became  a 
little  nervous. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Jack,"  said  Herbert.  "I  see 
you  got  my  letter.  " 

"You  are  Mr.   Herbert?"  said  Jack,  in   his  resonant 

which,  in   the   lofty   studio,    had  a  bright,  close 

quality  like  the  middle  notes  of  a  trumpet.      Herbert 

nodded.      "You   are  not   the    gentleman    to    whom     I 

spoke  on  Saturday?" 

"No.  Mr.  Sutherland  is  not  well;  and  I  am  acting 
for  him.  This  is  the  young  gentleman  whom  I 
mentioned  to  you." 

Charlie  blushed,  and  grinned.  Then,  seeing  a 
humorous  wrinkling  in  the  stranger's  face,  he 
stepped  forward  and  offered  him  his  hand.  Jack 
shook  it  heartily.  "I  shall  get  on  very  well  with 
you,"  he  said,  "if  you  think  you  will  like  me  as  a 
tutor." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  21 


", 


'Charlie    never  works,"   said  Mary:    "that  is    his 
great  failing-,  Mr.  Jack." 

"You  have  no  right  to  say  that,"  said  Charlie, 
reddening.  "How  do  you  know  whether  I  work  or 
not?  I  can  make  a  start  with  Mr.  Jack  without  being 
handicapped  by  your  amiable  recommendation." 

"This  is  Miss  Sutherland,"  said  Herbert,  interposing 
quickly.  "She  is  the  mistress  of  Mr.  Sutherland's 
household;  and  she  will  explain  to  you  how  you  will 
be  circumstanced  as  regards  your  residence  with  the 
family. ' ' 

Jack  bowed  again.  "I  should  like  to  know,  first, 
at  what  studies  this  young  gentleman  requires  my 
assistance." 

"I  want  to  learn  something  about  music — about  the 
theory  of  music,  you  know,"  said  Charlie;  "and  I  can 
grind  at  anything  else  you  like." 

"His  general  education  must  not  be  sacrificed  to  the 
music,"  said  Mary  anxiously. 

"Oh!  don't  you  be  afraid  of  my  getting  off  too 
easily,"  said  Charlie.  "I  dare  say  Mr.  Jack  knows  his 
business  without  being  told  it  by  you." 

"Pray  don't  interrupt  me,  Charlie.  I  wish  you 
would  go  into  the  next  room  and  look  at  the  sketches. 
I  shall  have  to  arrange  matters  with  Mr.  Jack  which 
do  not  concern  you. ' ' 

"Very  well,"  said  Charlie,  sulkily.  "I  don't  want 
to  interfere  with  your  arrangements;  but  don't  you 
interfere  with  mine.  Let  Mr.  Jack  form  his  own 
opinion  of  me;  and  keep  yours  to  yourself."  Then 
he  left  the  studio. 

"If  there  is  to  be  any  serious  study  of  music — I 
understood  from  Mr.  Herbert  that  your  young  brother 


22  Love  Among  the  Artists 


ir> 


desires  to  make  it  his  profession — other  matters  must 
give  place  to  it,"  said  Jack  bluntly.  "A  little  ex- 
perience will  shew  us  the  best  course  to  take  with  him.  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mary.  After  hesitating  a  moment  she 
added  timidly,  "Then  you  are  willing  to  undertake 
his  instruction?" 

"I  am  willing,  so  far,"  said  Jack. 

Mary  looked  nervously  at  Herbert,  who  smiled,  and 
said,  "Since   we   are  satisfied  on  that  point,    the  only 

remaining  question,  I  presume,  is  one  of  terms." 

"Sir,"  said  Jack  abruptly,  "I  hate  business  and 
know  nothing  about  it.      The:  xeuse  me  if  I  put 

my  terms  in  my  own  wa  If  I  am  to  live  with  Mr. 
Sutherland  at  Windsor,  I  shall   want,  b<  I  food  and 

lodging,  a  reasonable  time  to  myseli  iv,  with 

permission  to  use  Miss  Sutherland's  piano  when  I  can 
do  so  without  disturbing  anybody,  and  money  enough 
to  keep  me  decently  clothed,  and  not  absolutely 
penniless.      I  will  say  thirty-five  pounds  a  year." 

"Thirty-five  pounds  a  year"  repeated  Herbert.  "To 
confess  the  truth,  I  am  not  a  man  of  business  myself; 
but  that  seems  quite  reasonable." 

"Oh,  quite,"  said  Mary.  "I  think  papa  would  not 
mind  giving  more." 

"It  is  enough  for  me,"  said  Jack,  with  something 
like  a  suppressed  chuckle  at  Mary's  simplicity.  "Or, 
I  will  take  a  church  organ  in  the  neighborhood,  if 
you  can  procure  it  for  me,  in  lieu  of  salary. " 

"I  think  we  had  better  adhere  to  the  usual  arrange- 
ment," said  Herbert.  Jack  nodded,  and  said,  "I  have 
no  further  conditions  to  make." 

"Do  you  wish  to  say  anything?"  said  Herbert,  look- 
ing inquiringly  at  Mary. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  23 

"No,  I — I  think  not.  I  thought  Mr.  Jack  would  like 
to  know  something  of  our  domestic  arrangements. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jack  curtly,  "I  need  not  trouble 
you.  If  your  house  does  not  suit  me,  I  can  complain, 
or  leave  it."  He  paused,  and  then  added  more 
courteously,  "You  may  reassure  yourself  as  to  my 
personal  comfort,  Miss  Sutherland.  I  am  well  used  to 
greater  privation  than  I  am  likely  to  suffer  with  you." 

Mary  had  nothing  more  to  say.  Herbert  coughed 
and  turned  his  ring  round  a  few  times  upon  his 
finger.     Jack  stood  motionless,  and  looked  very  ugly. 

"Although  Mr.  Sutherland  .  has  left  this  matter 
altogether  in  my  hands,"  said  Herbert  at  last,  "I 
hardly  like  to  conclude  it  myself.  He  is  staying  close 
by,  in  Onslow  Gardens.  Would  you  mind  calling  on 
him  now?  If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  give  you  a 
note  to  the  effect  that  our  interview  has  been  a 
satisfactory  one."  Jack  bowed.  "Excuse  me  for 
one  moment.  My  writing  materials  are  in  the  next 
room.  I  will  say  a  word  or  two  to  Charlie,  and  send 
him  in  to  you. ' ' 

There  was  a  mirror  in  the  room,  which  Herbert  had 
used  as  a  model.  It  was  so  placed  that  Mary  could  see 
the  image  of  the  new  tutor's  face,  as,  being  now  alone 
with  her,  he  looked  for  the  first  time  at  the  picture. 
A  sudden  setting  of  his  mouth  and  derisive  twinkle 
in  his  eye  shewed  that  he  found  something  half 
ludicrous,  half  contemptible,  in  the  work;  and  she, 
observing  this,  felt  hurt,  and  began  to  repent  having 
engaged  him.  Then  the  expression  softened  to  one  of 
compassion;  he  sighed  as  he  turned  away  from  the 
easel.  Before  she  could  speak  Charlie  entered,  say- 
ing: 


24  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"I  am  to  go  back  with  you  to  Onslow  Gardens,  Mr. 
Jack,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Oh,  no,  Charlie:  you  must  stay  with  me,"  said 
Mary. 

"Don't  be  alarmed:  Adrian  is  going  on  to  the 
Museum  with  you  directly;  and  the  housekeeper  is 
here  to  do  propriety.  I  have  no  particular  fancy  for 
lounging  about  that  South  Kensington  crockery  shop 
with  you;  and,  1  s,    Mr.    Jack  not   know  his 

way  to  Jermyu's.      Here  is  Adrian." 

Herbert  came  in,  and  handed  a  note  to  the  tutor, 
who  took  it;  nodded  briefly  to  them;  and  went  out 
with  Charlie. 

"That  is  certainly  the  ugliest  man  I  ever  saw,"  said 
Herbert.  "I  think  he  has  got  the  better  of  us,  too. 
We  are  a  pretty  pair  t<>  transact  business." 

"Yes,"  said  Mary,  laughing.  "He  said  he  was  not 
a  man  of  business;  but  I  wonder  what  he  thinks  of 
us."  , 

"As  of  two  young  children  whom  fate  has  delivered 
into  his    hand,    doubtless,  tall   we   start   now    for 

South  Kensington ?" 

"Yes.  But  I  don't  want  to  disturb  my  impression 
of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  by  any  more  art  to-day.  It  is 
so  fine  this  afternoon  that  I  think  it  would  be  more 
sensible  for  us  to  take  a  walk  in  the  Park  than  to  shut 
ourselves  up  in  the  Museum." 

Herbert  agreeing,  they  walked  together  to  Hyde 
Park.  "Now  that  we  are  here,"  said  he,  "where 
shall  we  go  to?     The  Row?" 

"Certainly  not.  It  is  the  most  vulgar  place  in 
London.  If  we  could  find  a  pleasant  seat,  I  should 
like  to  rest." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  25 


<(- 


'We  had  better  try  Kensington  Gardens,  then." 

"No,"  said  Mary,  remembering-  Mr.  Jack.  "I  do 
not  like  Kensington  Gardens." 

"I  have  just  thought  of  the  very  thing,"  exclaimed 
Herbert.  "Let  us  take  a  boat.  The  Serpentine  is  not 
so  pretty  as  the  Thames  at  Windsor ;  but  it  will  have 
the  charm  of  novelty  for  you.     Will  you  come?" 

"I  should  like  it  of  all  things.  But  I  rely  upon  you 
as  to  the  propriety  of  my  going  with  you." 

Herbert  hesitated.  "I  do  not  think  there  can  be 
any  harm ' ' 

"There:  I  was  only  joking.  Do  you  think  I  allow 
myself  to  be  influenced  by  such  nonsense  as  that?  Let 
us  go." 

So  they  went  to  the  boat-house  and  embarked. 
Herbert  sculled  aimlessly  about,  enjoying  the  spring 
sunshine,  until  they  found  themselves  in  an  unfre- 
quented corner  of  the  Serpentine,  when  he  half 
shipped  his  sculls,  and  said,  "Let  us  talk  for  a  while 
now.     I  have  worked  enough,  I  think. ' ' 

"By  all  means,"  said  Mary.     "May  I  begin?" 

Herbert  looked  quickly  at  her,  and  seemed  a  little 
disconcerted.     "Of  course,"    said  he. 

"I  want  to  make  a  confession,"  she  said.  "It  con- 
cerns the  Lady  of  Shalott,  of  which  I  have  been  busily 
thinking  since  we  started." 

Have  you  reconsidered  your  good  opinion  of  it?' 
No.  Better  and  yet  worse  than  that.  I  have 
reconsidered  my  bad  impression  of  it — at  least,  I  do 
not  mean  that — I  never  had  a  bad  impression  of  it, 
but  my  vacant,  stupid  first  idea.  My  confession  is  that 
I  was  disappointed  at  the  first  sight  of  it.  Wait:  let 
me  finish.      It  was  different  from  what  I  imagined,  as 


<  * 


26  Love  Among  the  Artists 


t> 


it  ought  to  have  been;  for  I  am  not  an  artist,  and 
therefore  do  nut  imagine  things  properly.  But  it  has 
grown  upon  me  since;  and  now  I  like  it  better  than  if 
it  had  dazzled  my  ignorant  eyes  at  first.  I  have  been 
thinking  that  if  it  had  the  gaudy  qualities  I  missed  in 
it,  I  should  not  have  respected  you  so  much  for  paint- 
ing it,  nor  should  I  have  been  forced  to  dwell  on  the 
poetry  of  the  conception  as  I  have  been.  I  remember 
being  secretly  disappointed  the  first  time  we  went  to 
the  National  Gallery;  and,  as  to  my  first  opera,  I 
suffered  agonic  nchantment.     It  is  a  comfort 

to  me — a  mean  one,  I  fear — to  know  that  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds   was   di  I    at    his    first   glimpse    of 

Raphael's  frescoes  in  the  Vatican,  and  that  some  of 
the  great  composers  thought  Beethoven's  music 
hideous  before  they  became   familiar  with  it." 

"You  find  that  my  picture  improves  on  ac- 
quaintance?" 

■'<  »h.  yes!   Very  much.      (  >r  rather  I  improve." 

"But  ai  a  sure  y  re  not  coaxing  yourself  into 

a  false  admiration  of  it  for  my — to  a       I  hurting  me?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Mary  vehemently,  trying  by 
force   of   assertion   to  stifle   this  suspicion,    which   had 

me  into  her  own  mind  before  Herbert  mentioned  it. 

"And  do  you  still  feel  able  to  sympathize  with  my 
aims,  and  willing  to  encourage  me,  and  to  keep  the 
highest  aspects  of  my  art  before  me,  as  you  have  done 
hitherto?" 

"I  feel  willing,  but  not  able.  How  often  must  I 
remind  you  that  I  owe  all  my  feeling  for  art  to  you, 
and  that  I  am  only  the  faint  reflexion  of  you  in  all 
matters  concerning  it?" 

Nevertheless  without  your  help  I  should  long  ago 


""NT, 


Love  Among  the  Artists  27 

have  despaired.  Are  you  quite  sure — I  beg  you  to 
answer  me  faithfully — that  you  do  not  despise  me?" 

"Mr.  Herbert!  How  can  you  think  such  a  thing  of 
me?     How  can  you  think  it  of  yourself?" 

"I  am  afraid  my  constant  self-mistrust  is  only  too 
convincing  a  proof  of  my  weakness.  I  sometimes 
despise  myself. " 

44  It  is  a  proof  of  your  artistic  sensibility.  You  do 
not  need  to  learn  from  me  that  all  the  great  artists 
have  left  passages  behind  them  proving  that  they  have 
felt  sometimes  as  you  feel  now.  Take  the  oars  again ; 
and  let  us  spin  down  to  the  bridge.  The  exercise  will 
cure  your  fancies." 

"Not  yet.  I  have  something  else  to  say.  Has  it 
occurred  to  you  that  if  by  any  accident — by  the 
forming  of  a  new  tie,  for  instance — your  sympathies 
came  to  be  diverted  from  me,  I  should  lose  the  only 
person  whose  belief  in  me  has  helped  me  to  believe  in 
myself?     How  utterly  desolate  I  should  be!" 

"Desolate!  Nonsense.  Some  day  you  will  exhaust 
the  variety  of  the  sympathy  you  compliment  me  so 
highly  upon.  You  will  find  it  growing  shallow  and 
monotonous ;  and  then  you  will  not  be  sorry  to  be  rid 
of  it." 

"I  am  quite  serious.  Mary:  I  have  felt  for  some 
time  past  that  it  is  neither  honest  nor  wise  in  me  to 
trifle  any  longer  with  my  only  chance  of  happiness. 
Will  you  become  engaged  to  me?  You  may  meet 
many  better  and  stronger  men  than  I,  but  none  who 
will  value  you  more  highly — perhaps  none  to  whose 
life  you  can  be  so  indispensable." 

There  was  a  pause,  Mary  being  too  full  of  the 
responsibility  she  felt  placed  upon  her  to  reply  at  once. 


28  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Of  the  ordinary  maidenly  embarassment  she  shewed 
not  a  trace. 

"Why  cannot  we  go  on  as  we  have  been  doing  so 
happily?"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 

"Of  course,  if  you  wish  it,  we  can.  That  is,  if  you 
do  not  know  your  own  mind  on  the  subject.  But  such 
happiness  as  there  may  be  in  our  present  indefinite 
relations  will  be  all  on  your  side." 

'"It  seems  so  ungrateful  to  hesitai  It  is  doubt  of 
myself  that  makes  me  do  so.  You  have  always 
immensely  overrated  me;  and  I  should  not  like  you  to 
feel  at  some   future   day  that  you  had  n.  i  mistake. 

When   you   are   famous,    y  >u    will    be  able    to  choose 
whom  you  please,  and  where  you  please." 

"If  that  is  the  only  consideration  that  hinders  you, 
I  claim  your  consent.  I  »o  you  think  that  I,  too,  do 
not  feel  how  little  worthy  of  y<»ur  acceptance  my  offer 
is?  But  if  we  can  love  one  another,  what  does  all  that 
matter?  It  is  not  as  though  we  were  strangers:  we 
have  proved  one  another.  It  is  absurd  that  we  two 
should  say 'Mr.  Herbert1  and 'Miss  Sutherland',  as  if 
our  friendship  were  an  acquaintance  of  ceremony." 

"I  have  often  wished  that  you  would  call  me  Mary. 
At  home  we  always  speak  of  you  as  Adrian.  But  I 
could  hardly  have  asked  you  to,  could  I?" 

"I  am  sorry  you  did  not.  And  now,  will  you  give 
me  a  definite  answer?  Perhaps  I  have  hardly  made 
you  a  definite  offer;  but  you  know  my  position.  I  am 
too  poor  with  my  wretched  ^£"300  a  year  to  give  you  a 
proper  home  at  present.  For  that  I  must  depend  on 
my  brush.  You  can  fancy  how  I  shall  work  when 
every  exertion  will  bring  my  wedding  day  nearer; 
though,  even  at  the  most  hopeful  estimate,  I  fear  I  am 


Love  Among  the  Artists  29 

condemning    you    to  a  long  engagement.     Are   you 
afraid  to  venture  on  it?" 

"Yes,  I  am  afraid;  but  only  lest  you  should  find  out 
the  true  worth  of  what  you  are  waiting  for.  If  you 
will  risk  that,  I  consent." 


CHAPTER    III 

On  one  of  the  last  days  of  July,  Mary  Sutherland 
was  in  her  father's  house  at  Windsor,  copying  a  sketch 

ned  A.  H.  The  room  had  a  French  window  open- 
ing "ii  a  little  pleasure  ground  and  shrubbery,  far 
beyond  which,  through  the  swimming  summer  atmos- 
phere,  was   thi  threading  the  distant    valley. 

t  Mary  did  not  look  that  way.  With  her  attention 
concentrated  on  a  stained  scrap  of  paper,  she  might 
have  passed  for  an  sesthi        laughter  of  the  Man  with 

the  Muck   Rake.      At  last  ash.  11  upon  the  draw- 

ing  board.      Then    she   turned,    and   saw   a   tall,  hand- 
some  lady,   a  little  past  middle  age,   standing  at  the 

window. 

"Mrs.  Herbert!"  she  exclaimed,  throwing  down  her 
brush,  aiul  running  to  embrace  the  new  comer.     "I 

thought  you  were  in  Scotland." 

"So  I  was,  until  last  week.  The  first  person  I  saw 
in  London  was  your  Aunt  Jane ;  and  she  has  persuaded 

me  to  stay  at  Windsor  with  her  for  a  fortnight      II 
well  you  arc'  lo  »king!     I  saw  your  portrait  in  Adrian's 
studio;  and  it  is  not  the  least  bit  like  you." 

"I   hope  you   did  not  tell   him  so.  sides,  it  must 

be  like  me.      All  Adrian's  artistic   friends  admire  it." 

"Yes;  and  he  admires  their  works  in  return.  It  is  a 
well  understood  bargain.  Poor  Adrian!  He  did  not 
know  that  I  was  coming  back  from  Scotland;  and  I 
gave  him  a  very  disagreeable  surprise  by  walking  into 
his  studio  on  Monday  afternoon." 

3° 


Love  Among  the  Artists  31 

"Disagreeable!     I  am  sure  he  was  delighted.'1 

"He  did  not  even  pretend  to  be  pleased.  His 
manners  are  really  getting  worse  and  worse.  Who  is 
the  curious  person  that  opened  the  shrubbery  gate  for 
me? — a  sort  of  Cyclop  with  a  voice  of  bronze." 

"It  is  only  Mr.  Jack,  Charlie's  tutor.  He  has  noth- 
ing to  do  at  present,  as  Charlie  is  spending  a  fortnight 
at  Cambridge." 

"Oh,  indeed!  Your  Aunt  Jane  has  a  great  deal  to 
say  about  him.  She  does  not  like  him;  and  his 
appearance  rather  confirms  her,  I  must  say,  though  he 
has  good  eyes.     Whose  whim  was  Mr.  Jack,  pray?" 

"Mine,  they  say;  though  I  had  no  more  to  do  with 
his  being  engaged  than  papa  or  Charlie  had. ' 

"I  am  glad  Adrian  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Well, 
Mary,  have  you  any  news  for  me?  Has  anything 
wonderful  happened  since  I  went  to  Scotland?" 

"No.  At  least,  I  think  not.  You  heard  of  papa's 
aunt  Dorcas's  death." 

"That  was  in  April,  just  before  I  went  away.  I 
heard  that  you  left  London  early  in  the  season.  It  is 
childish  to  bury  yourself  down  here.  You  must  get 
married,  dear." 

Mary  blushed.  "Did  Adrian  tell  you  of  his  new 
plans?"  she  said. 

"Adrian  never  tells  me  anything.  And  indeed  I  do 
not  care  to  hear  of  any  plans  of  his  until  he  has,  once 
for  all,  given  up  his  absurd  notion  of  becoming  a 
painter.  Of  course  he  will  not  hear  of  that :  he  has 
never  forgiven  me  for  suggesting  it.  All  that  his  fine 
art  has  done  for  him  as  yet  is  to  make  him  dislike  his 
mother;  and  I  hope  it  may  never  do  worse." 

"But,  Mrs.  Herbert,  you  are  mistaken:  I  assure  you 


32  Love  Among  the  Artists 

you  are  quite  mistaken.  He  is  a  little  sore,  perhaps, 
because  you  do  not  appreciate  his  genius;  but  he  loves 
you  very  dearly. " 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  my  not  appreciating 
his  genius,  as  you  call  it,  my  dear.  I  am  not  one  bit 
prejudiced  against  art;  and  if  Adrian  had  the  smallest 
chance  of  becoming  a  good  painter,  I  would  share  my 
jointure  with  him  and  send  him  abroad  to  study.  But 
he   will   never   paint.      I     am    not   what   is  called    an 

^hete;  ami  pictures  that  are  gen<  '  understood  to 

be  the  perfection  of  modern  art  invariably  bore  me, 
because  I  do  not  understand  them.  But  I  do  under- 
stand  Adrian's   daubs;    and     I     know    that    they   are 

invariably  weak    ami  bad.      All  the  Royal  Academy 

could  not  persuade  me  t<>  the  contrary — though, 
indeed,  they  are  not  likely  to  try.  I  wish  I  could  make 
you   understand    that    anyone     who   dissuades    Adrian 

from  pursuing  art  will  be  his  best  friend.  Don't  you 
feel  that  yourself  when  y  feat  his  pictures,  Mary?" 

"No,"  said  Mary,  fixing  her  gl  es  and  looking 
boldly  at  her  vi  "I  feel  just  the  contrary." 

"Then  you  must  be  blind  or  infatuated.  Take  his 
portrait  of  you  as  an  example!  Xo  one  could 
recognize  it.  Even  Adrian  told  me  that  he  would 
have  destroyed  it,  had  you  not  forbidden  him;  though 
he  was  bursting  with  suppressed  resentment  because 
I  did  not  pretend  to  admire  it." 

"I  believe  that  Adrian  will  be  a  great  man  yet,  and 
that  you  will  acknowledge  that  you  were  mistaken  in 
him." 

"Well,  my  dear,  you  are  young,  and  not  very  wise, 
for  all  your  cleverness.  Besides,  you  did  not  know 
Adrian's  father." 


It" 
If 


Love  Among  the  Artists  33 

"No;  but  I  know  Adrian — very  well,  I  think.  I 
have  faith  in  the  entire  worthiness  of  his  conceptions; 
and  he  has  proved  that  he  does  not  grudge  the  hard 
work  which  is  all  that  is  requisite  to  secure  the  power 
of  executing  what  he  conceives.  You  cannot  expect 
him  to  be  a  great  painter  without  long  practice  and 
study." 

"I  do  not  understand  metaphysics,  Mary.  Con- 
ceptions and  executions  are  Greek  to  me.  But  I  know 
very  well  that  Adrian  will  never  be  happy  until  he  is 
married  to  some  sensible  woman.  And  married  he 
never  can  be  whilst  he  remains  an  artist." 
lWhy?" 

'What  a  question!  How  can  he  marry  with  only 
three  hundred  a  year?  He  would  not  accept  an  allow- 
ance from  me,  even  if  I  could  afford  to  make  him  one ; 
for  since  we  disagreed  about  this  wretched  art,  he  has 
withdrawn  himself  from  me  in  every  possible  way, 
and  with  an  ostentation,  too,  which — natural  feeling 
apart — is  in  very  bad  taste.  He  will  never  add  a  penny 
to  his  income  by  painting:  of  that  I  am  certain;  and 
he  has  not  enterprise  enough  to  marry  a  woman  with 
money.  If  he  persists  in  his  infatuation,  you  will  find 
that  he  will  drag  out  his  wife  waiting  for  a  success 
that  will  never  come.  And  he  has  no  social  talents. 
If  he  were  a  genius,  like  Raphael,  his  crotchets  would 
not  matter.  If  he  were  a  humbug,  like  his  uncle  John 
he  would  flourish  as  all  humbugs  do  in  this  wicked 
world.  But  Adrian  is  neither:  he  is  only  a  duffer, 
poor  fellow." 

Mary  reddened,  and  said  nothing. 

"Have    you    any  influence  over  him?"   said    Mrs. 
Herbert,  watching  her. 


34  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"If  I  had,"  replied  Mary  "I  would  not  use  it  to 
discourage  him." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  had  some  hope  that  you 
would  help  me  to  save  him  from  wasting-  his  opportu- 
nities. Your  Aunt  Jane  has  been  telling  me  that  you 
are  engaged  to  him;  but  that  is  such  an  old  story  now 
that  I  never  pay  any  attention  to  it." 

"Has  Adrian  not  told  you 

"My  dear,  I  have  already  said  a  dozen  times  that 
Adrian  never  tells  me  anything.  The  more  important 
his  affairs  are,  the  more  openly  and  purposely  he 
excludes  me  from  them.  I  hope  you  have  not  been  so 
silly  as  to  rely  on  his  visions  of  fame  for  your  future 
support. " 

"The  truth  is  that  we  have  been  engaged  since  last 
April.  I  wanted  Adrian  to  write  to  you;  but  he  said 
he  preferred  to  speak  to  you  about  it.  I  thought  he 
would  have  done  so  the  moment  you  returned.  How- 
ever, I  am  sure  he  had  g<;od  reasons  for  leaving  me  to 
tell  you;  and  I  am  quite  content  to  wait  until  he  reaps 
the  reward  of  his  labor.  We  must  agree  to  differ 
about  his  genius.      I  have  perfect  faith  in  him." 

"Well,  Mary,  I  am  very  sorry  for  your  sake.  I  am 
afraid,  if  you  do  not  lose  patience  and  desert  him  in 
time,  you  will  live  to  see  all  your  own  money  spent, 
and  to  try  bringing  up  a  family  on  three  hundred  a 
year.  If  you  would  only  be  advised,  and  turn  him 
from  his  artistic  conceit,  you  would  be  the  best  wife 
in  England  for  him.  You  have  such  force  of  character 
— just  what  he  wants." 

Mary  laughed.  "You  are  so  mistaken  in  everything 
concerning  Adrian!"  she  said.  "It  is  he  who  has  all 
the  force  of  character:  I  am  only  his  pupil.     He  has 


Love  Among  the  Artists  35 

imposed  all  his  ideas  on  me,  more,  perhaps,  by  dint  of 
their  purity  and  truth  than  of  his  own  assertiveness; 
for  he  is  no  dogmatist.  I  am  always  the  follower :  he 
the  leader." 

"All  very  fine,  Mary;  but  my  old-fashioned  common- 
sense  is  better  than  your  clever  modern  nonsense. 
However,  since  Adrian  has  turned  your  head,  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  until  you  both  come  to  your 
senses.  That  must  be  your  Aunt  Jane  at  the  door. 
She  promised  to  follow  me  within  half  an  hour." 

Mary  frowned,  and  recovered  her  serenity  with  an 
effort  as  she  rose  to  greet  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Beatty,  an 
elderly  lady,  with  features  like  Mr.  Sutherland's  but 
fat  and  imperious.  She  exclaimed,  "I  hope  I've  not 
come  too  soon,  Mary.  How  surprised  you  must  have 
been  to  see  Mrs.  Herbert!" 

"Yes.  Mr.  Jack  let  her  into  the  shrubbery;  and 
she  appeared  to  me  at  the  window  without  a  word  of 
warning." 

"Mr.  Jack  is  a  nice  person  to  have  in  a  respectable 
house,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty  scornfully.  "Do  you  know 
where  I  saw  him  last?" 

"No,"  said  Mary  impatiently;  "and  I  do  not  want 
to  know.     I  am  tired  of  Mr.  Jack's  misdemeanors." 

"Misdemeanors!  I  call  it  scandal,  Mary.  A  per- 
fect disgrace!" 

"Dear  me!     What  has  he  done  now?' 

"You  may  well  ask.  He  is  at  present  shewing  him- 
self in  the  streets  of  Windsor  in  company  with 
common  soldiers,  openly  entering  the  taverns  with 
them." 

"O  Aunt  Jane!     Are  you  sure?" 
Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  believe    my    own 


t  i 


36  Love  Among  the  Artists 

senses.     I  drove  through  the  town  on  my  way  here — 

you  know  what  a  small  town  is,  Mrs.  Herbert,  and  how 

erybody  knows   everybody  else  by  sight  in  it,   let 

alone  such  a  remarkable  looking  person  as  this  Mr. 
Jack;  and  the  very  first  person  I  saw  was  Private 
Charles,  the  worst  character  in  my  husband's  regiment, 
conversing  with  my  nephew's  tutor  at  the  door  of  the 
'Green     Man.'      They     went    into    the    bar  together 

fore  my  eves.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  your  Mr. 
Jack?" 

"lie  may  have  had  some  special  reason " 

"Special;  n !  Fiddlestick!  What  right  has  any 
servant  of  my  brother's  to  l  ite  soldier 

in  broad  daylight  in  the  streets?*  There  can  be  no 
excuse  for  it.  If  Mr.  Jack,  had  a  particle  of  self-respect 
he  would  maintain  a  proper  distance  between  himself 
and  even  a  full  :it.      Hut  thi  .arles  is  such  a 

drunkard  that  he  spends  half  his  time  in  cells.  He 
would   have   been   dismisse  <m   the   regiment   long 

since,  only  he  is  a  bandsman;  and  the  bandmaster 
begs  Colonel  ttty  not  to  get  rid  of  him,  as  he  can- 
not be  replace;." 

"If  he  is  a  bandsman,"  said  Man*,  "that  explains  it. 
Mr.  Jack  wanted  musical  information  from  him,  I 
suppose." 

"I  declare,  Mary,  it  is  perfectly  wicked  to  hear  you 
defend  such  conduct.  Is  a  public  house  the  proper 
place  for  learning  music?  Why  could  not  Mr.  Jack 
apply  to  your  uncle?  If  he  had  addressed  himself 
properly  to  me,  Colonel  Beatty  could  have  ordered  the 
man  to  give  him  whatever  information  was  required 
of  him." 

"I  must  say,  aunt,  that  you  are  the  last  person  I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  37 

should  expect  Mr.  Jack  to  ask  a  favor  from,  judging 
by  your  usual  manner  towards  him. " 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Beatty,  turning  indignantly  to 
Mrs.  Herbert.  "That  is  the  way  I  am  treated  in  this 
house  to  gratify  Mr.  Jack.  Last  week  I  was  told  that 
I  was  in  the  habit  of  gossiping  with  servants,  because 
Mrs.  Williams'  housemaid  met  him  in  the  Park 
on  Sunday — on  Sunday,  mind — whistling  and  sing- 
ing and  behaving  like  a  madman.  And  now, 
when  Mary's  favorite  is  convicted  in  the  very  act  of 
carousing  with  the  lowest  of  the  low,  she  turns  it  off 
by  saying  that  I  do  not  know  how  to  behave  myself 
before  a  tutor." 

"I  did  not  say  so,  aunt;  and  you  know  that  very 
well. " 

"Oh,  well,  of  course  if  you  are  going  to  fly  out  at 


me- 


"I  am  not  flying  at  you,  aunt;  but  you  are  taking 
offence  without  the  least  reason;  and  you  are  making 
Mrs.  Herbert  believe  that  I  am  Mr.  Jack's  special 
champion — you  called  him  my  favorite.  The  truth  is, 
Mrs.  Herbert,  that  nobody  likes  this  Mr.  Jack ;  and  we 
only  keep  him  because  Charlie  makes  some  progress 
with  him,  and  respects  him.  Aunt  Jane  took  a  violent 
dislike  to  him " 

"I,  Mary!  What  is  Mr.  Jack  to  me  that  I  should 
like  or  dislike  him,  pray?" 

" and  she  is  always  bringing  me  stories  of  his 

misdoings,  as  if  they  were  my  fault.  Then,  when  I 
try  to  defend  him  from  obvious  injustice,  I  am  accused 
of  encouraging  and  shielding  him." 

"So  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty. 

"I  say  whatever  I  can  for  him,"  said  Mary  sharply, 


38  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"because  I  dislike  him  too  much  to  condescend  to  join 
in  attacks  made  on  him  behind  his  back.  And  I  am 
not  afraid  of  him,  though  you  are,  and  so  is  Papa." 

"Oh,  really  you  are  too  ridiculous,"  said  Mrs. 
Beatty.     "Afraid!" 

"I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert  smoothly,  "that  my 
acquaintance  the  Cyclop  has  made  himself  a  bone  of 
contention  here.  Since  you  all  dislike  him,  why  not 
dismiss  him  and  get  a  more  popular  character  in  his 
place?  He  is  really  not  an  ornament  to  your  establish- 
ment.    Where  is  your  father,  Mary?" 

"He  has  gone  out  to  dine  at  Eton;  and  he  will  not 
be  back  until  midnight.  He  will  be  so  sorry  to  have 
missed  you.    But  he  will  see  you  to-morrow,  of  course.  " 

"And  you  are  alone  here?" 

"Yes.      Alone  with  my  work." 

"Then  what  about  our  plan  of  taking  you  back  with 
us  and  keeping  you  for  the  evening'" 

"I  think  I  would  rather  stay  and  finish  my  work." 

"Nonsense,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty.  "  You  can- 
not be  working  always.  Come  out  and  enjoy 
yourself. " 

Mary  yielded  with  a  sigh,  and  went  for  her  hat. 

"I  am  sure  that  all  this  painting  and  poetry  reading 
is  not  good  for  a  young  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty,  whilst 
Mary  was  away.  "It  is  very  good  of  your  Adrian  to 
take  such  trouble  to  cultivate  Mary's  mind;  but  so 
much  study  cannot  but  hurt  her  brain.  She  is  very 
self-willed  and  full  of  outlandish  ideas.  She  is  not 
under  proper  control.  Poor  Charles  has  no  more 
resolution  than  a  baby.  And  she  will  not  listen  to 
me,  alth " 

"I  am  ready,"  said  Mary,  returning. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  39 

"You  make  me  nervous — you  do  everything-  so 
quickly,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty,  querulously.  "I  wish 
you  would  take  shorter  steps,"  she  added,  looking  dis- 
paragingly at  her  niece's  skirts  as  they  went  out 
through  the  shrubbery.  "It  is  not  nice  to  see  a  girl 
striding  like  a  man.  It  gives  you  quite  a  bold 
appearance  when  you  swing  along,  peering  at  people 
through  your  glasses." 

"That  is  an  old  crime  of  mine,  Mrs.  Herbert,"  said 
Mary.  "I  never  go  out  with  Aunt  Jane  without  being 
lectured  for  not  walking  as  if  I  had  high  heeled  boots. 
Even  the  Colonel  took  me  too  task  one  evening  here. 
He  said  a  man  should  walk  like  a  horse,  and  a  woman 
like  a  cow.  His  complaint  was  that  I  walked  like  a 
horse;  and  he  said  that  you,  aunt,  walked  properly, 
like  a  cow.  It  is  not  worth  any  woman's  while  to  gain 
such  a  compliment  as  that.  It  made  Mr.  Jack  laugh 
for  the  first  and  only  time  in  our  house." 

Mrs.  Beatty  reddened,  and  seemed  about  to  make 
an  angry  reply,  when  the  tutor  came  in  at  the  shrub- 
bery gate,  and  held  it  open  for  them  to  pass.  Mrs. 
Herbert  thanked  him.  Mrs.  Beatty,  following  her, 
tried  to  look  haughtily  at  him,  but  quailed,  and  made 
him  a  slight  bow,  in  response  to  which  he  took  off  his 
hat. 

"Mr.  Jack,"  said  Mary,  stopping:  "if  papa  comes 
back  before  I  am  in,  will  you  please  tell  him  that  I 
am  at  Colonel  Beatty's. " 

"At  what  hour  do  you  expect  him?" 

"Not  until  eleven,  at  soonest.  I  am  almost  sure  to 
be  back  first;  but  if  by  any  chance  I  should  not 
be " 

"I  will  tell  him,"  said  Jack.     Mary  passed  on;  and 


40  Love  Among  the  Artists 

he  watched  them  until  Mrs.  Beatty's  carriage  disap- 
peared. Then  he  hurried  indoors,  and  brought  a  heap 
of  manuscript  music  into  the  room  the  ladies  had  just 
left.  He  opened  the  pianoforte  and  sat  down  before 
it;  but  instead  of  playing  he  began  to  write,  occasion- 
ally touching  the  keys  to  try  the  effect  of  a  progression, 
or  rising  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  with  puckered 
brows. 

Ik-  labored  in  this  fashion  until  seven  o'clock,  when, 
hearing  someone   v/h:  ;   in   the   road,  he   went  out 

into  the  shrubbery,  and  presently  came  back  with  a 
soldier,  not  perfect!  er,  who  carried  a  roll  of  music 

paper  and  a  case  containing  three  clarionets. 

"Now  let  us  hear  what  you  can   make  of  it,"  said 
Jack,  seating  himself  at  the  piano. 

"It's  cruel  quick,  that  allagrow  part  is,"  said  the 
soldier,  trying  to  make  his  sheet  of  music  stand 
rly  on  Mary's  table  easel  "Just  give  us  your  \'> 
Hat,  will  you.  Mister."  Jack  struck  the  note;  and 
the  soldier  blew.  '"Them  ladies'  singin'  pianos  is 
always  so  damn  low,"  he  grumbled.  "I've  drorn  the 
slide  as  far  as  it'll  come.  Just  wait  while  I  stick  a 
washer  in  the  bloomin'  thing." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  been  drinking  instead 
of  practising,  since  I  saw  you,"  said  Jack. 

"S'  help  me,  governor,  I've  been  practising  all  the 
a'ternoon.  I  on'y  took  a  glass  on  my  way  here  to  set 
me  to  rights.  Xow,  Mister,  I'm  ready."  Jack 
immediately  attacked  Mary's  piano  with  all  the  vigor 
of  an  orchestra;  and  the  clarionet  soon  after  made  its 
entry  with  a  brilliant  cadenza.  The  soldier  was  a 
rapid  executant;  his  tone  was  fine;  and  the  only 
varieties  of  expression  he  was  capable  of,  the  spirited 


Love  Among  the  Artists  41 

and  the  pathetic,  satisfied  even  Jack,  who,  on  other 
points,  soon  began  to  worry  the  soldier  by  his 
fastidiousness. 

"Stop,"  he  cried,  "That  is  not  the  effect  I  want  at 
all.  It  is  not  bright  enough.  Take  the  other  clar- 
ionet.    Try  it  in  C." 

"Wot!  Play  all  them  flats  on  a  clarionet  in  C!  It 
can't  be  done.  Leastways  I'm  damn'd  if  I  can — 
Hello!  'Ere's  a  gent  for  you,  sir." 
^  Jack  turned.  Adrian  Herbert  was  standing  on  the 
threshold,  astonished,  holding  the  handle  of  the  open 
door.  "I  have  been  listening  outside  for  some  time," 
he  said  politely.     "I  hope  I  do  not  disturb  you." 

"No,"  replied  Jack.  "Friend  Charles  here  is  worth 
listening  to.     Eh,  Mr.  Herbert?" 

Private  Charles  looked  down  modestly;  jingled  his 
spurs;  coughed;  and  spat  through  the  open  window. 
Adrian  did  not  appreciate  his  tone  or  his  execution; 
but  he  did  appreciate  his  sodden  features,  his  weak 
and  husky  voice,  and  his  barrack  accent.  Seeing  a 
clarionet  and  a  red  handkerchief  lying  on  a  satin 
cushion  which  he  had  purchased  for  Mary  at  a  bazaar, 
the  looked  at  the  soldier  with  disgust,  and  at  Jack 
with  growing  indignation. 

"I  presume  there  is  no  one  at  home,"  he  said 
coldly. 

"Miss  Sutherland  is  at  Mrs.  Beatty's,  and  will  not 
return  until  eleven,"  said  Jack,  looking  at  Adrian 
with  his  most  rugged  expression,  and  not  subduing  his 
powerful  voice,  the  sound  of  which  always  afflicted 
the  artist  with  a  sensation  of  insignificance.  "Mrs. 
Beatty  and  a  lady  who  is  visiting  her  called  and 
brought  her  out   with   them.     Mr.   Sutherland  is    at 


42  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Eton,  and  will  not  be  back  till  midnight.  My  pupil 
is  still  at  Cambridge." 

"H'ml"  said  Adrian.  "I  shall  go  on  to  Mrs. 
Beatty's.  I  should  probably  disturb  you  by  re- 
maining. " 

Jack  nodded  and  turned  to  the  piano  without  further 
ceremony.  Private  Charles  had  taken  one  of  Mary's 
paint-brushes  and  fixed  it  upon  the  desk  against  his 
sheet  of  music,  which  was  rolling  itself  up.  This  was 
the  last  thing  Herbert  saw  before  he  left.  As  he 
walked  away  he  heard  the  clarionet  begin  the  slow 
movement  of  the  concerto,  a  melody  which,  in  spite  of 
his  annoyance,  struck  him  as  quite  heavenly.  He 
nevertheless  hastened  out  of  earshot,  despising  the 
whole  art  of  music  because  a  half-drunken  soldier 
could  so  affect  him  by  it. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  Sutherlands'  house  was  a  gate, 
though  which  he  ;  d  into  a  flower-garden,  in  which 

a  tall  g'  man  with  sandy  hair  was  smoking  a  cigar. 

This  w  tlonel    Beatty,  from  whom   he   learnt   that 

the  ladies  were  in  the  drawing-room.  There  he  found 
his  mother  and  Mrs.  Beatty  working  in  colored  wools, 
whilst  Mary,  at  a  distance  from  them,  was  reading  a 
volume  of  Browning.  She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he 
entered. 

"Is  this  your  usual  hour  for  making  calls?"  said 
Mrs.  Herbert,  in  response  to  her  son's  cool  "Good 
evening,  mother." 

"Yes,'  said  he.  "I  cannot  work  at  night."  He 
passed  on  and  sat  down  beside  Mary  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room.  Mrs.  Beatty  smiled  significantly  at  Mrs. 
Herbert,  who  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  went  on 
with  her  work. 


If 

t  ( 

t  4' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  43 

"What  is  the  matter,  Adrian?"  said  Mary,  in  a  low 
voice. 
'Why?" 

You  look  annoyed." 

I  am  not  annoyed.  But  I  am  not  quite  satisfied 
with  the  way  in  which  your  household  is  managed  in 
your  absence  by  Mr.  Jack." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Mary,  "you  too!  Am 
I  never  to  hear  the  last  of  Mr.  Jack?  It  is  bad  enough 
to  have  to  meet  him  every  day,  without  having  his 
misdeeds  dinned  into  my  ears  from  morning  till  night. " 

"I  think  an  end  should  be  put  to  such  a  state  of 
things,  Mary.  I  have  often  reproached  myself  for 
having  allowed  you  to  engage  this  man  with  so  little 
consideration.  I  thought  his  mere  presence  in  the 
house  could  not  affect  you — that  his  business  would  be 
with  Charlie  only.  My  experience  of  the  injury  that 
can  be  done  by  the  mere  silent  contact  of  coarse 
natures  with  fine  ones  should  have  taught  me  better. 
Mr.  Jack  is  not  fit  to  live  with  you,  Mary." 

"But  perhaps  it  is  our  fault.  He  has  no  idea  of  the 
region  of  thought  from  which  I  wish  I  never  had  to 
descend ;  but,  after  all,  we  have  no  fault  to  find  with 
him.  We  cannot  send  him  away  because  he  does  not 
appreciate  pictures." 

"No.  But  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  not 
quite  so  well-behaved  in  your  absence  as  he  is  when 
you  are  at  home.  When  I  arrived  to-night,  for 
instance,  I,  of  course,  went  straight  to  your  house. 
There  I  heard  a  musical  entertainment  going  forward. 
When  I  went  in  I  was  greeted  with  a  volley  of  oaths 
which  a  drunken  soldier  was  addressing  to  Jack.  The 
two  were  in  the  drawing-room  and  did  not  perceive  me 


44  Love  Among  the  Artists 

at  first,  Jack  being  seated  at  your  pianoforte, 
accompanying- the  soldier,  who  was  playing  a  flageolet. 
The  fellow  was  using  your  table  easel  for  a  desk,  and 
your  palette  knife  as  a  paper  weight  to  keep  his  music 
flat.  Has  Jack  your  permission  to  introduce  his 
military  friends  whenever  you  are  outv' 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Mary,  reddening.  "I  never 
heard  of  sueh  a  thing.  I  think  Mr.  Jack  is  excessively 
impertinent." 

"What  is  the  matter"-'"  said  Mrs.  Beattv,  perceiving 
that  her  niece  was  vexed. 

"Nothing,  aunt,"  said  Mary  hastily.  44 Please  do 
not  tell  Aunt  Jane,"  she  added  in  an  undertone  to 
Adrian. 

"Why  not'" 

"Oh,  she  will  only  worry  about  it.  Pray  do  not 
mention  it.     What  ought  we  to  do  about  it,  Adrian?" 

"Simply  dismiss  Mr.  Jack  forthwith?" 

"Hut Yes,    I   suppose   we  should.     The  only 

difficulty   is "    Mary   hesitated,  and   at   last   added, 

"I  am  afraid  he  will  think  that  it  is  out  of  revenge  for 
his  telling  Charlie  not  to  take  his  ideas  of  music  from 
my  way  of  playing  it,  and  because  he  despises  my 
painting." 

"  I  despises  your  painting!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
he  has  been  insolent  to  you?  You  should  dismiss  him 
at  once.  Surely  such  fears  as  you  expressed  just  now 
have  no  weight  with  you,  Mary?" 

Mary  reddened  again,  and  said,  a  little  angrily,  "It 
is  very  easy  for  you  to  talk  of  dismissing  people, 
Adrian;  but  if  you  had  to  do  it  yourself,  you  would 
feel  how  unpleasant  it  is." 

Adrian  looked  grave  and  did  not  reply.      After  a 


Love  Among  the  Artists  45 

short  silence  Mary  rose;  crossed  the  room  carelessly; 
and  began  to  play  the  piano.  Herbert,  instead  of 
sitting  by  her  and  listening,  as  his  habit  was,  went  out 
and  joined  the  Colonel  in  the  garden. 

"What  have  you  quarrelled  about,  dear?"  said  Mrs. 
Herbert. 

"We  have  not  quarrelled,"  said  Mary.  "What 
made  you  think  that. ' ' 

"Adrian  is  offended." 

"Oh,  no.  At  least  I  cannot  imagine  why  he  should 
be." 

"He  is.  I  know  what  Adrian's  slightest  shrug 
signifies." 

Mary  shook  her  head  and  went  on  playing.  Adrian 
did  not  return  until  they  went  into  another  room  to 
sup.  Then  Mary  said  she  must  go  home ;  and  Herbert 
rose  to  accompany  her." 

"Good-night,  mother,"  he  said.  "I  shall  see  you 
to-morrow.  I  have  a  bed  in  the  town,  and  will  go 
there  directly  when  I  have  left  Mary  safely  at 
home."  He  nodded;  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Beatty 
and  the  Colonel;  and  went  out  with  Mary.  They 
walked  a  hundred  yards  in  silence.  Then  Mary 
said: 

"Are  you  offended,  Adrian?  Mrs.  Herbert  said  you 
were." 

He  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung.  "I  do  not 
believe  I  could  make  a  movement,"  he  replied  indig- 
nantly, "for  which  my  mother  would  not  find  some 
unworthy  motive.  She  never  loses  an  opportunity  to 
disparage  me  and  to  make  mischief." 

"She  does  not  mean  it,  Adrian.  It  is  only  that  she 
does  not  quite  understand  you.     You  sometimes  say 


46  Love  Among  the  Artists 

hard  things  of  her,  although  I  know  you  do  not  mean 
to  speak  unkindly." 

"Pardon  me,  Mary,  I  do.  I  hate  hypocrisy  of  all 
kinds;  and  you  annoy  me  when  you  assume  any  tender- 
ness on  my  part  towards  my  mother.  I  dislike  her.  I 
believe  I  should  do  so  even  it  she  had  treated  me 
well,  and  shewed  me  the  ordinary  respect  which  I  have 
much  ri^ht  to  from  a  parent  as  from  any  oth' 
son.  ir  natures  are  antagonistic,  our  views  of 
life  and  duty  incompatible:  we  have  nothing  in 
common.  That  is  the  plain  truth;  and  however  much 
it  may  shock  you,  unless  you  are  willing  to  accept  it 
as    unalterable,    I    had    rather    you    would     drop     the 

Bubject " 

"<  >h,  Adrian,  I  do  not  think  it  is  right  to " 

"I  do  not  think,  Mary,  that  you  can  tell  me  anything 
concerning  what  is  ea'.led  filial  duty  that  I  am  not 
already  familiar  with.  I  -  ami' it  help  my  likes  and  dis- 
likes: I  have  to  entertain  them  when  tlv  me  to  me, 
without  regard  to  their  propriety.  You  may  be  quite 
tranquil  as  far  as  my  mother's  feelings  are  concerned. 
My  undutiful   sentiments  afford   her  her  chief  delight 

a  pretext  for  complaining  of  me." 

Mary  looked  wistfully  at  him,  and  walked  on,  down- 
east,  lie  stopped;  turned  towards  her  gravely;  and 
resumed : 

"Mary:  I  suspect  from  one  or  two  things  you  have 
said,  that  you  cherish  a  project  for  reconciling  me  to 
my  mother.  You  must  relinquish  that  idea.  I  myself 
exhausted  every  effort  to  that  end  long  ago.  I  dis- 
guised the  real  nature  of  my  feeling  towards  her  until 
even  self-deception,  the  most  persistent  of  all  forms  of 
illusion,    was  no  longer  possible.      In   those    days    I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  47 

should  have  hailed  your  good  offices  with  pleasure. 
Now  I  have  not  the  least  desire  to  be  reconciled  to 
her.  As  I  have  said,  we  have  nothing  in  common: 
her  affection  would  be  a  burden  to  me.  Therefore 
think  no  more  of  it.  Whenever  you  wish  to  see  me  in 
my  least  amiable  mood,  re-open  the  subject,  and  you 
will  be  gratified. ' ' 

"I  shall  avoid  it  since  you  wish  me  to.  I  only 
wished  to  say  that  you  left  me  in  an  awkward  position 
to-day  by  not  telling  her  of  our  engagement." 

"True.  That  was  inconsiderate  of  me.  I  intended 
to  tell  her;  but  1  got  no  opportunity.  It  matters 
little;  she  would  only  have  called  me  a  fool.  Did  you 
tell  her?" 

"Yes,  when  I  found  that  Aunt  Jane  had  told  her 
already." 

And  what  did  she  say?" 

'Oh,  nothing.     She  reminded  me  that  you  were  not 
rich  enough  to  marry. ' ' 

"And  proclaimed  her  belief  that  I  should  never 
become  so  unless  I  gave  up  painting?" 

"She  was  quite  kind  to  me  about  it.  But  she  is  a 
little  prejudiced " 

"Yes,  I  know.  For  heaven's  sake  let  us  think  and 
talk  about  something  else.  Look  at  the  stars.  What 
a  splendid  dome  they  make  of  the  sky  now  that  there 
is  no  moon  to  distract  attention  from  them.  And  yet 
a  great  artist,  with  a  miserable  yard  of  canvas,  can 
move  us  as  much  as  that  vast  expanse  of  air  and  fire." 

"Yes. — I  am  very  uncomfortable  about  Mr.  Jack, 
Adrian.  If  he  is  to  be  sent  away,  it  must  be  done 
before  Charlie  returns,  or  else  there  will  be  a  quarrel 
about  it.     But  then,  who  is  to  speak  to  him?     He  is  a 


48  Love  Among  the  Artists 

very  hard  person  to  find  fault  with;  and  very  likely 
papa  will  make  excuses  for  him  sooner  than  face  him 
with  a  dismissal.  ',  worse  again,  he  might  give  him 

some    :  reason   for  sending  him   away,  in  order  to 

av<-id  an  explosion;  and  somehow  I  would  rather  do 
anything  than  conde  1  to  tell  Mr.  Jack  a  story.      If 

he  w  I  should  not  mind  so  much." 

"There  is  no  occ.  .  to  resort  to  untruth,  which  is 
equally  odious,  no  matter  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  It 
ed  that  his  ei  ement  should  be  terminable 

by  a  month's  notice  on  either  Let  Mr.  Suther- 

land write  him  a  letter  giving  that  notice.  No  reason 
need  be  mentioned;  and  the  letter  can  be  courteously 
worded,  thanking  him  for  his  past  services,  and  simply 
tying  that  Charlie  is  to  be  placed  in  other  hands.  " 

"But  it  will  be  so  unpleasant  to  have  him  with  us 
for  a  month  under  a  s-ntence  of  dismissal." 

"Well,  it  cannot  be  help<  There  is  no  alternative 

but  to  turn  him  out  of  the  house  for  misconduct." 

"That  is  impossible  .  A  I  ttet  will  be  the  best.  I 
wish  we  hail  never  Been  him,  or  that  he  were  gone 
already.      Hush.      Listen   a  moment." 

They  stopped.  The  sound  of  a  pianoforte  came  to 
their  ears. 

"He  is  playing  still,"  said  Mary.  "Let  us  go  back 
for  Colonel  Beatty.  He  will  know  how  to  deal  with 
the  soldier. " 

"The  soldier  must  have  left  long  ago,"  said  Adrian. 
"I  can  hear  nothing  but  the  piano.  Let  us  go  in.  He 
is  within  his  bargain  as  far  as  his  own  playing  goes. 
He  stipulated  for  that  when  we  engaged  him." 

They  went  on.  As  they  neared  the  house,  grotescpie 
noises  mingled  with  the  notes  of  the  pianoforte.      Mary 


Love  Among  the  Artists  49 

hesitated,  and  would  have  stopped  again ;  but  Adrian, 
with  a  stern  face,  walked  quickly  ahead.  Mary  had  a 
key  of  the  shrubbery ;  and  they  went  round  that  way, 
the  noise  becoming  deafening  as  they  approached. 
The  player  was  not  only  pounding  the  keyboard  so 
that  the  window  rattled  in  its  frame,  but  was  making 
an  extraordinary  variety  of  sounds  with  his  own 
larynx.  Mary  caught  Adrian's  arm  as  they  advanced 
to  the  window  and  looked  in.  Jack  was  alone,  seated 
at  the  pianoforte,  his  brows  knitted,  his  eyes  glisten- 
ing under  them,  his  wrists  bounding  and  rebounding 
upon  the  keys,  his  rugged  countenance  transfigured 
by  an  expression  of  extreme  energy  and  exaltation. 
He  was  playing  from  a  manuscript  score,  and  was 
making  up  for  the  absence  of  an  orchestra  by  imita- 
tions of  the  instruments.  He  was  grunting  and 
buzzing  the  bassoon  parts,  humming  when  the  violon- 
cello had  the  melody,  whistling  for  the  flutes,  singing 
hoarsely  for  the  horns,  barking  for  the  trumpets, 
squealing  for  the  oboes,  making  indescribable  sounds 
in  imitation  of  clarionets  and  drums,  and  marking  each 
sforzando  by  a  toss  of  his  head  and  a  gnash  of  his 
teeth.  At  last,  abandoning  this  eccentric  orchestra- 
tion, he  chanted  with  the  full  strength  of  his  formi- 
dable voice  until  he  came  to  the  final  chord,  which  he 
struck  violently,  and  repeated  in  every  possible 
inversion  from  one  end  of  the  keyboard  to  the  other. 
Then  he  sprang  up,  and  strode  excitedly  to  and  fro 
in  the  room.  At  the  second  turn  he  saw  Herbert  and 
Mary,  who  had  just  entered,  staring  at  him.  He 
started,  and  stared  back  at  them,  quite  disconcerted. 

"I  fear  I  have  had  the  misfortune  to  disturb  you  a 
second  time,"  said  Herbert,  with  suppressed  anger. 


5<d  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"No,  said  Jack,  in  a  voice  strained  by  his  recent 
abuse  of  it,  "I  was  p!         ;  by  myself.     The  soldier 

whom  you  saw  here  has  gone  to  his  quarters."      As  he 
mentioned  the  soldier,  he         ted  at  Mary. 

"It  was  hardly  necessary  to  mention  that  you  were 
playing,"    a  n.     "We    heard   you   at   a  con- 

Lerable  distance." 

Jack's  cheek  -lowed  like  a  ty  copper  kettle,  and 
he  looked  darkly  at  Herbert  for  a  moment.  Then,  with 
some  humor  in   his  eye,    he   said,  "Did  you 

hear  much  of  my  performance;-"' 

"We  heard  quite  enough,  Mr.  Jack."  said  Mary, 
approaching  the  piano  to  place  her  hat  on  it.  J  a  k 
quickly  took  his  mane  I        uy  as  she  did  i  "I 

am   afraid   y<>u   have        I    improved   my   poor  spinet," 
she  added,  looking  ruefully  at  th  vs. 

"That    is    what    a  >rte     i       for,"     said    Jack 

gravely.      "It  may  have   suffered;   but  when  next  y 
touch  it  you  will  feel  that  the  hand  .  musician  have 

been  on  it,  and  that  its  heart  ha  .  at  last."      I!  • 

looked  hard  at  her  for  a  moment  after  s  r  this,  and 

then  turned  to  Herbert,  and  continm  Suther- 

land  was   complaining    some    time    ago   that   she    h 
never  heard   me  play.      Neither  had   she,  because   she 
usually  sits  here  when  she   is  at  home;  and   I   do  not 
care   to   disturb   her   then.      I    am    glad   she    has   b< 

atified  at  last  by  a  performance  which  is,  I  assure 
you,  very  characteristic  of  me.  Perhaps  you  thought 
it  rather  odd"' 

"I  did  think  so,"  said  Herbert,  severely. 

"Then,"  said  Jack,  with  a  perceptible  surge  of  his 
subsiding  excitement,  "I  am  fortunate  in  having 
escaped  all  observation    except  that  of    a  gentleman 


Love  Among  the  Artists  51 

who  understands  so  well  what  an  artist  is.  If  I  cannot 
compose  as  you  paint,  believe  that  it  is  because  the 
art  which  I  profess  lies  nearer  to  a  strong  man's  soul 
than  one  which  nature  has  endowed  you  with  the 
power  of — appreciating.  Good-night."  He  looked 
for  a  moment  at  the  two;  turned  on  his  heel;  and  left 
the  room.  They  stared  after  him  in  silence,  and  heard 
him  laugh  subduedly  as  he  ascended  the  stairs. 

"I  will  make  papa  write  to  him  to-morrow,"  said 
Mary,  when  she  recovered  herself.  "No  one  shall 
have  a  second  chance  of  addressing  a  sarcasm  to  you, 
Adrian,  in  my  father's  house,  whilst  I  am  mistress  of  it. " 

"Do  not  let  that  influence  you,  Mary.  I  am  not 
disposed  to  complain  of  the  man's  conceited  ignorance. 
But  he  was  impertinent  to  you." 

"I  do  not  mind  that." 

"But  I  do.  Nothing  could  be  more  grossly  insolent 
than  what  he  said  about  your  piano.  Many  of  his 
former  remarks  have  passed  with  us  as  the  effect  of  a 
natural  brusqncrie,  which  he  could  not  help.  I  believe 
now  that  he  is  simply  ill-mannered  and  ill-conditioned. 
That  sort  of  thing  is  not  to  be  tolerated  for  one 
moment." 

"I  have  always  tried  to  put  the  best  construction  on 
his  actions,  and  to  defend  him  from  Aunt  Jane,"  said 
Mary.  "I  am  very  sorry  now  that  I  did  so.  The  idea 
of  his  calling  himself  an  artist ! ' ' 

"Musicians  often  arrogate  that  title  to  themselves," 
said  Herbert;  "and  he  does  not  seem  overburdened 
with  modesty.  I  think  I  hear  Mr.  Sutherland  letting 
himself  in  at  the  hall  door.  If  so,  I  need  not  stay  any 
longer,  unless  you  wish  me  to  speak  to  him  about 
what  has  occurred." 


52  Love  AmoiiLj  the  Artists 

"Oh  no,  not  to-night:  it  would  only  spoil  his  rest. 
I  will  tell  him  in  the  n  ng." 

Herbert  waited  only  to  bid  Mr.  Sutherland  good- 
night Then  he  kissed  his  betrothed,  and  went  to  his 
lodging. 


"l 

t  i 


if 

<  ( 


CHAPTER   IV 

Two  days  later,  Mary  was  finishing  the  sketch  which 
Mrs.  Herbert  had  interrupted.  Something  was  wrong 
with  her:  at  every  sound  in  the  house  she  changed 
color  and  stopped  to  listen.  Suddenly  the  door  was 
opened;  and  a  housemaid  entered,  rigid  with  indigna- 
tion. 

Oh  Clara,  you  frightened  me.     What  is  it?" 
If  you  please,    Miss,  is  it  my  place  to  be  called 
names  and  swore  at  by  the  chootor?" 
'Why?     What  has  happened?" 
Master  gave  me  a  note  after  breakfast  to  give  Mr. 
J  ack,  Miss.      He  was  not  in  his  room  then ;  so  I  left  it 
on  the  table.     As  soon  as  I  heard  him  moving  about,  I 
went  and  asked  him  had  he  got  it.     The  answer   I 
got — begging  your    pardon,    Miss — was,    'Go   to    the 
devil,  you  jade.'     If   I  am  expected  to  put  up  with 
that   from   the  likes  of  him,    I   should  wish   to   give 
warning. ' ' 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Clara.  Why  did  he  behave  so? 
Did  you  say  anything  rude  to  him?" 

"Not  likely,  Miss.  I  hope  I  respect  myself  more 
than  to  stop  and  bandy  words.  His  door  was  wide 
open;  and  he  had  his  portmanteau  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  and  was  heaping  his  things  into  it  as  fast  as 
he  could.  He  was  grinding  his  teeth,  too,  and  looked 
reg'lar  wicked." 

"Well,  Clara,  as  Mr.  Jack  will  be  leaving  very  soon, 
I  think  you  had  better  pass  it  over." 

53 


54  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Indeed,  Miss?      Is  Mr.  Jack  going?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mary,  turning  to  her  easel. 

"Oh!"   said   the  housemaid   slowly.      After  lingering 

a  moment  in  vain  for  further  information,  she  hastened 
to  the   kitchen   to   tell   the   nev  e  had  closed  the 

door;  but  it  did  not  fasten,  and  presently  a  draught 
from  an  open  window  in  the  hall  blew  it  softly  open. 
Though  Mary  wanted  it  shut,  so  that  Jack  should  not 
see  her  if  lie  passed  on  his  way  (nit,  she  was  afraid  to 
stir.  She  had  never  been  so  unreasonably  nervous 
in   her   lit-  *e;   and   she   sat   there   helplessly  pre- 

Qding  to  draw   until  she   heard   the   dreaded  footSt 
on  the   stai  Her  heart   beat   in  a  terrible  crescendo 

as   the   steps  a;  I;     passed;   stopped;   returned; 

and  entered  the  room.  When  she  forced  herself  to 
look  up,  he  standing  there  ag  her,  with  her 

father's  letter  in  his  hand. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  said. 

Mary  glanced  round  as  it  to  escape  from  his  • 

but  had  to  look  at  him  as  she  replied  faintly,  "You 
had  better  ask  Mr.  Sutherland." 

"Mr.  Sutherland  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You 
are  mistress  here. " 

lie  waited  lon^  enough  for  an  answer  to  shew  that 
she  had  none  to  make.  Then,  shaking  his  head,  he 
deliberately  tore  the  letter  into  fragments.  That 
stung  her  into  saying: 

"I  do  not  wish  to  pursue  the  subject  with  you." 

"I  have  not  asked  your  leave,"  he  replied.  "I  give 
you  a  lesson  for  the  benefit  cf  the  next  wretch  that 
will  hold  my  position  at  the  mercy  of  your  ignorant 
caprice.  You  have  spoiled  the  labor  of  the  past  three 
months   for    me;    upset    my  plans;    ruined    me,     for 


Love  Among  the  Artists  55 

aught  I  know.  Tell  your  father,  who  wants  to  dis- 
charge me  at  the  end  of  the  month,  that  I  discharge 
myself  now.  I  am  not  a  dog,  to  sit  at  his  table  after 
the  injustice  he  has  done  me." 

"He  has  done  you  no  injustice,  Mr.  Jack.  He  has 
a  perfect  right  to  choose  who  shall  remain  in  his  house- 
hold. And  I  think  he  has  acted  rightly.  So  does  Mr. 
Herbert." 

Jack  laughed  gruffly.  "Poor  devil!"  he  said,  "he 
fancies  he  can  give  ideas  to  the  world  because  a  few 
great  men  have  given  some  to  him.  I  am  sorry  I  let 
his  stiff  manners  put  me  out  of  temper  with  him  the 
other  night.  He  hates  me  instinctively  because  he 
feels  in  me  what  he  misses  in  himself.  But  you  ought 
to  know  better.  Why,  he  hated  that  drunken  rascal 
I  had  here,  because  he  could  handle  his  clarinet  like 
a  man  with  stuff  in  him.  I  have  no  more  time  for 
talking  now.  I  have  been  your  friend  and  have 
worked  hard  with  your  brother  for  your  sake,  because 
I  thought  you  helped  me  to  this  place  when  I  was 
desperately  circumstanced.  But  now  I  shall  not  easily 
forgive  you."  He  shook  his  head  again  at  her,  and 
walked  out,  shutting  the  door  behind  him.  The  house- 
maid was  in  the  hall.  "My  portmanteau  and  a  couple 
of  other  things  are  on  the  landing  outside  my  door," 
he  said,  stopping  as  he  passed  her.  "You  will  please 
give  them  to  the  man  I  send." 

"And  by  whose  orders  am  I  to  trouble  myself  about 
your  luggage,  pray?" 

Jack  turned  and  slowly  advanced  upon  her  until  she, 
retreating,  stood  against  the  wall.  "By  my  orders, 
Mrs.  Boldface,"  he  said.  "Do  as  you  are  bid — and 
paid  for,  you  hussy." 


56  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Well,  certainly,"  began  the  housemaid,  as  he 
turned  away,  "that's " 

Jack  halted  and  looked  round  wickedly  at  her.  She 
retired  quickly,  grumbling.  As  he  left  the  house, 
Herbert,  coming  in  at  the  gate,  was  surprised  to  see 
him  laughing  heartily;  for  he  had  never  seen  him  in 
good  humor  before. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Jack,"  said  Adrian  as  they 
passed. 

"Goodbye,"  said  Jack,  derisively.  And  he  went  on. 
Before  Adrian  readied  the  doorstep,  he  heard  the 
other  roaring  with  laughter  in  the  road. 

Jack,  when  he  had  had  his  laugh  out,  walked  quickly 
away,  chuckling,  and  occasionally  shaking  his  fist  at 
the  sky.  When  he  came  to  Colonel  Beatty's  house,  he 
danced  fantastically  past  the  gate,  snapping  his  fingers. 
He  laughed  boisterously  at  this  performance  at  inter- 
vals until  he  came  into  the  streets.  Here,  under  the 
eye  of  the  town,  he  was  constrained  to  behave  himself 
less  remarkably;  and  the  constraint  made  him  so 
impatient  that  he  suddenly  gave  up  an  intention  he 
had  formed  of  taking  a  lodging  there,  and  struck  off  to 
the  railway  station  at  Slough. 

"When  is  there  a  train  to  London?"  he  said,  pre- 
senting himself  at  the  booking-office. 

"There's  one  going  now,"  replied  the  clerk  coolly. 

"Now!"  exclaimed  Jack.  "Give  me  a  ticket — third 
class — single. " 

"Go  to  the  other  window.      First  class  only  here.  " 

"First  class,  then,"  cried  Jack,  exasperated. 
"Quick."     And  he  pushed  in  a  half  sovereign. 

The  clerk,  startled  by  Jack's  voice,  hastily  gave  him 
a  ticket  and  an  instalment  of  the  change.     Jack  left 


Love  Among  the  Artists  57 

the  rest,  and  ran  to  the  platform  just  in  time  to  hear 
the  engine  whistle. 

"Late,  sir.  You're  late,"  said  a  man  in  the  act  of 
slamming  the  barrier.  By  way  of  reply,  Jack  dragged 
it  violently  back  and  rushed  after  the  departing  train. 
There  was  a  shout  and  a  rush  of  officials  to  stop  him ; 
and  one  of  them  seized  him,  but,  failing  to  hold  him, 
was  sent  reeling  by  the  collision.  The  next  moment 
Jack  opened  the  door  of  a  first-class  carriage,  and 
plunged  in  in  great  disorder.  The  door  was  shut 
after  him  by  an  official,  who  stood  on  the  footboard  to 
cry  out,  "You  will  be  summonsd  for  this,  sir,  so  you 
shall.     You  shall  be  sum " 

"Go  to  the  deuce,"  retorted  Jack,  in  a  thundering 
voice.  As  the  man  jumped  off,  he  turned  from  the 
door,  and  found  himself  confronted  by  a  tall  thin  old 
gentleman,  sprucely  dressed,  who  cried  in  a  high 
voice : 

"Sir,  this  is  a  private  compartment.  I  have 
engaged  this  compartment.  You  have  no  business 
here." 

"You  should  have  had  the  door  locked  then,"  said 
Jack,  with  surly  humor,  seating  himself,  and  folding 
his  arms  with  an  air  of  concentrated  doggedness. 

"I — I  consider  your  intrusion  most  unwarrantable 
— most  unjustifiable,"  continued  the  the  gentleman. 

Jack  chuckled  too  obviously,  at  the  old  gentleman's 
curious  high  voice  and  at  his  discomfiture.  Then, 
deferring  a  little  to  white  hairs,  he  said,  "Well,  well: 
I  can  get  into  another  carriage  at  the  next  station. ' ' 

"You  can  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  sir,"  cried  the 
gentleman,  more  angrily  than  before.  "This  is  an 
express  train.     It  does  not  stop." 


58  Love  Among  the  Artists 


<  i 


Then  I  do — where  I  am,"  aid  Jack  curtly,  with  a 
new  and  more  serious  expression  of  indignation;  for 
he  had  just  remarked  that  there  was  one  other  person 
in  the  carriage — a  young  lady. 

"I  will  not  submit  to  this,  sir.  I  will  stop  the 
train." 

"Stop  it  then,"  said  Jack,  scowling  at  him.  "Hut 
let  me  alone. " 

The  gentleman,  with    flush        E  color  coming  and 

>n  his  withered  cheek,  turned  to  the  alarum  and 
an  to  rea  I  the  printed  instructions  as  to  its  u 
"You  had  better  not  stop  the  train,  father,"  said  the 
lady.      "You    will    only   get    fined.       The     half 

»wn  you  gave  th<        ird  does  not " 

"Hold   your    ton-;,  lid    the    gentleman.      "I 

desire  you  not  to  speak   to  me,  M  igdalen,  on  any  pre- 
.t  whats  . "     Jack,  who  h  Lented  a  little  <>•] 

irning  the   innocent   relationship  between  his  fellow 

traveli     .   glanced  at  the  daughter.      She  was  a  tall 

lady  with   chestnut   hair,  burnished  by  the  ra; 
which  came  aslant  through  the  carriage  window.     Her 

i's  were  bright  hazel;  her  mouth  small,  but  with  full 
lips,  the  upper  one,  like  her  nose,  tending  to  curl 
upward.  She  was  no  more  than  twenty;  but  in  spite 
of  her  youth  and  trivial  style  of  beauty,  her  manner 
was  self-reliant  and  haughty.  be  did  not  seem  to 
enjoy  her  journey,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her 
ill-humor,  which  was  greatly  increased  by  the  rebuke 
which  her  father  had  addressed  to  her.  Her  costume 
of  maize  color  and  pale  blue  was  very  elegant,  and 
harmonized  admirably  with  her  fine  complexion. 
Jack  repeated  his  glance  at  short  intervals  until  he 
discovered  that  her  face  was  mirrored    in  the  window 


Love  Among  the  Artists  59 

next  which  he  sat.  He  then  turned  away  from  her, 
and  studied  her  appearance  at  his  ease. 

Meanwhile  the  gentleman,  grumbling  in  an  under- 
tone, had  seated  himself  without  touching  the  alarum, 
and  taken  up  a  newspaper.  Occasionally  he  looked 
over  at  his  daughter,  who,  with  her  cheek  resting  on 
her  glove,  was  frowning  at  the  landscape  as  they 
passed  swiftly  through  it.  Presently  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  impatience,  and  blew  off  some  dust  and 
soot  which  had  just  settled  on  his  paper.  Then  he 
rose,  and  shut  the  window. 

" Oh,  pray  don't  close  it  altogether,  father,"  said 
the  lady.  "It  is  too  warm.  I  am  half  suffocated  as 
it  is." 

"Magdalen:  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  me."  Mag- 
dalen pouted,  and  shook  her  shoulders  angrily.  Her 
father  then  went  to  the  other  door  of  the  carriage,  and 
closed  the  window  there  also.  Jack  instantly  let  it 
down  with  a  crash,  and  stared  truculently  at  him. 

"Sir,"  said  the  gentleman:  "if,  you — if  sir — had 
you  politely  requested  me  not  to  close  the  window,  I 
should  not  have — I  would  have  respected  your 
objection." 

"And  if  you,  sir,"  returned  Jack,  "had  politely 
asked  my  leave  before  meddling  with  my  window,  I 
should,  with  equal  politeness,  have  conveyed  to  you 
my  invincible  determination  to  comply  with  the  lady's 
reasonable  request. ' ' 

"Ha!  Indeed!"  said  the  gentleman  loftily.  "I 
shall  not — ah — dispute  the  matter  with  you."  And  he 
resumed  his  seat,  whilst  his  daughter,  who  had  looked 
curiously  at  Jack  for  a  moment,  turned  again  to  the 
landscape  with  her  former  chagrined  expression. 


6o  Love  Among  the  Artists 


b 


For  some  time   after  this  they  travelled  in  peace: 
the    old    gentleman    engaged    with    his    paper:     Jack 

chuckling  over  his  recent  retort.      The   speed  of   the 

train   now  increa:  and   the  musician   became  exhil- 

arated as  the  telegraph  \  shot  past,  hardly  visible. 

When  the  train  reached  a  part  of  the  line  at  which  the 
rails  were  elevated  on  iron  chairs,  the  smooth  grinding 
of  the  wheels  changed  to  a  rhythmic  clatter.  The 
racket  became  deafening;  and  Jack's  exhilaration  had 
risen  to  a  reckless  excitement,  when  he  was  recalled 
to  his  senses  by  the  gentleman,  whom  he  had  forgot- 
ten, calling  out: 

"Sir:  will  vou  oblige  me  by  stopping  those  in-/Vrnal 
noises." 

Jack,  confused,  suddenly  ceased  to  grind  his  teeth 
and  whistle  through  them.  Then  he  laughed  and 
said  good-humoredly,  "I  beg  your  pardon:  I  am  a 
composer." 

"Then  have  the  goodness  to  remember  that  you  are 
not  now  in  a  printing  office,"  said  the  gentleman, 
evidently  SU]  g  him   to  be  a  compositor.     "You 

are  annoying  this  lady,  and  driving  me  distracted  with 
your  hissing. " 

"I  do  not  mind  it  in  the  least,"  said  the  lady 
stubbornly. 

"Magdalen:  I  have  already  desired  you  twice  to  be 
silent." 

"I  shall  speak  if  I  please,"  she  muttered.  Her 
father  pretended  not  to  hear  her,  and  sat  still  for  the 
next  ten  minutes,  during  which  he  glanced  at  Jack 
several  times,  with  an  odd  twinkle  in  his  eye.  Then 
he  said: 

"What  did  you  say  you  were,  sir,  may  I  ask?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  61 


it* 


'A  composer." 

'You  are  a  discomposer,  sir,"  cried  the  old  gentle- 
man promptly.  "You  are  a  discomposer."  And  he 
began  a  chirping  laughter,  which  Jack,  after  a  pause 
of  wonder,  drowned  with  a  deeptoned  roar  of  merri- 
ment. Even  the  lady,  determined  as  she  was  to  be 
sulky,  could  not  help  smiling.  Her  father  then  took 
up  the  newspaper,  and  hid  his  face  with  it,  turning  his 
back  to  Jack,  who  heard  him  occasionally  laughing  to 
himself. 

"I  wish  I  had  something  to  read,"  said  the  young 
lady  after  some  time,  turning  discontentedly  from  the 
window. 

"A  little  reflexion  will  do  you  no  harm,"  said  her 
parent.  "A  little  reflexion,  and,  I  will  add,  Mag- 
dalen, a  little  repentance  perhaps." 

"I  have  nothing  but  disappointment  and  misery  to 
reflect  about,  and  I  have  no  reason  to  be  repentant. 
Please  get  me  a  novel  at  the  next  station — or  give  me 
some  money,  and  I  will  get  one  myself." 

"Certainly  not.  You  are  not  to  be  trusted  with 
money.  I  forbid  you  ever  to  open  a  novel  again.  It 
is  from  such  pestilential  nonsense  that  you  got  the 
ideas  which  led  to  your  present  disgraceful  escapade. 
Now,  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to  answer  me,  Magdalen. 
I  do  not  wish  to  enter  into  a  discussion  with  you,  par- 
ticularly before  strangers." 

"Then  do  not  make  strangers  believe  that " 


t  i 


Hold  your  tongue,  Magdalen.     Do  you  disobey  me 
intentionally?     You  should  be  ashamed  to   speak  to 


me. 


The  young  lady  bit  her  lip  and  reddened.     "I  think 
— "  she  began. 


62  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Be  silent,"  cried  her  father,  seizing  his  umbrella  and 
rapping  it  peremptorily  on  the  floor.      Jack  sprang  up. 

"Sir,"  he  said:  "howdare  you  behave  so  to  a  lady?" 

"This  lady  is  my  daughter,  k —  k —  confound  your 
impertinence,"  replied  the  other  irascibly. 

"Then  d<  n't  treat  her  as  if  she  were  your  dog," 
retorted  Jac  "I  am  an  artist,  sir — an  artist — a 
poet;    and    I    will    not   permit   a  young   and   beautiful 

man  to  be  tyrannized  -  in  my  presence." 

"It  I  were  a  younger  man,"  began  the  gentleman, 
grasping  his  umbrella 

"If  you  were,'  shouted  Jack,  "you  would  have 
nothing  but  tenderness  and  respect  for  the  lady;  or 
else,  by  t1  >wer  oi  .1  would  pulverize  you — 

allegro  martellatissimo — on  the  spot." 

"Do  not  thr  ten  me,  sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
spiritedly,  rising  and  confronting  his  adversary. 
"Wh  .;ht  have   you  to  interfere   with  the  affairs  of 

strangers — perfect  strangers?  Are  you  mad,  sir;  or 
are  you  merely  i,  ttt?" 

"Neither.  I  am  as  well  versed  in  the  usages  of  the 
world  as  you;  and  I  have  sworn  not  to  comply  with 
them  when  tlu  mand  a  tacit  tolerance  of  oppres- 
sion. The  laws  of  society,  sir,  are  designed  to  make 
the  world  easy  for  cowards  and  liars.  And  lest  by  the 
infirmity  of  my  nature  I  should  become  either  the 
one  or  the  other,  or  perhaps  both,  I  never  permit 
myself  to  witness  tyranny  without  rebuking  it,  or  to 
hear  falsehood  without  exposing  it.  If  more  people 
were  of  my  mind,  you  would  never  have  dared  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  I  would  witness  your  insolence  to- 
wards your  daughter  without  interfering  to  protect  her. ' ' 

To  this  speech  the  old  gentleman  could  find  no  reply. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  63 

He  stared  at  Jack  a  few  moments,  and  then,  saying, 
"I  request  you  to  mind  your  own  business,  sir.  I 
have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  went  back  in  dudgeon  to 
his  seat.  The  lady  then  leaned  forward  and  said 
haughtily,  ''Your  interference  is  quite  unnecessary, 
thank  you.     I  can  take  care  of  myself. ' ' 

"Aye,"  retorted  Jack,  frowning  at  her:  "you  are 
like  other  children.  I  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  expect 
gratitude  from  you."  The  girl  blushed  and  looked 
away  towards  the  landscape.  Her  father  again  stared 
at  Jack,  who  resumed  his  seat  with  a  bounce ;  folded 
his  arms ;  and  glowered.  Five  minutes  later  the  train 
stopped ;  and  the  guard  came  for  their  tickets. 

"I  relied  on  you,"  said  the  gentleman  to  him,  for 
an  empty  carriage.  Instead  of  that,  I  have  had  a  most 
unpleasant  journey.  I  have  been  annoyed — damnably 
annoyed." 

"Ha!  ha!"  roared  Jack.     "Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

The  guard  turned  sternly  to  him,  and  said,  "Ticket, 
sir,  please,"  as  though  he  expected  the  ticket  to  prove 
a  third  class  one.  When  he  received  it  he  held  it 
between  his  lips,  whilst  he  opened  a  memorandum  and 
then  continued,  "I  want  your  name  and  address,  sir, 
please." 

"What  for?" 

"For  getting  in  when  the  train  was  in  motion,  sir, 
at  Slough.  The  Company's  orders  are  strict  against 
it.     You  might  have  been  killed,  sir." 

"And  what  the  devil  is  it  to  the  Company  whether 
I  am  killed  or  not?" 

"Be  quick,  sir,  please,"  said  the  guard,  uncertain 
whether  to  coax  or  be  peremptory.     "Our  time  is  up. " 

Jack  looked  angry  for  a  moment;  then  shrugged  his 


64  Love  Among  the  Artists 

shoulders  and  said,  "My  name  is  Jack;  and  I  live 
nowhere." 

The  man  let  his  book  fall  to  his  side,  and  mutely 
appealed  to  the  old  gentleman  to  witness  the  treat- 
ment he  was  end  ui  l'C  »me,  sir,"  be  said,  "what's 
the  nse  in  thi-  We'll  only  ha  'detain  you;  and 
that  won't  be  pi                          thcr  of  us." 

"Is  that  a  threat'"  said  Jack  fiercely. 

"No,    sir,    i  There's    no    one    threatening   you. 

We're  all  gentlemen  here.  I  only  do  my  duty,  as 
you    UT  -.and,     sir — none    better.      What    is     your 

name,  sir?" 

"My  name  i^  jack.  I  tell  you.      Mr.  <  )\ven  Jack." 
"Oh!     I  didn't  take   it  rightly  at   first.      Now   your 
address,  sir,  pl< 

"I  have  non  ;   never  hear  of  a  man  with- 

out any  homi  If  the  place  where  1  slept  last  night, 
and   where   my   property  is,  will  d  L,  you   can   put 

(!•>•  t    Mr.    I      irlea    Sutherland,     Beulah, 

Windsor.      I  i  :'or  you. " 

"I  know  Mr.  Sutherland  well,  sir,"  said  the  guard, 
putting  up  his  I  "Than':  ." 

"And  by  Heaven,"  said  J  '.  vehemently,  "if  I  hear 
another  word  of  this,  I  will  complain  ai  for  taking 

half-a-crown  from  this  gentleman  and  then  shutting 
me  and  a  lady  in  with  him  for  a  whole  journey.  I 
believe  him  to  be  insane." 

"Guard,"  screamed  the  old  gentleman,  quite  beside 
himself.  But  the  guard,  disconcerted  at  Jack's  allusion 
to  the  half-crown,  hurried  away  and  started  the  train. 
Nevertheless  the  gentleman  would  not  be  silenced. 
"How  dare  you,  sir,  speak  of  me  as  being  insane?" 
he  said. 


({- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  65 

"How  dare  you,  sir,  grumble  at  a  journey  which  has 
only  been  marred  by  your  own  peevishness?  I  have 
enjoyed  myself  greatly.  I  have  enjoyed  the  sunshine, 
the  scenery,  the  rhythm  of  the  train,  and  the  company 
of  my  fellow  travellers — except  you,  sir;  and  even 
your  interruptions  are  no  worse  than  untimely 
pleasantries.     I  never  enjoyed  a  journey  more  in  my 

life." 

"You  are  the  most  impertinent  man  I  ever  met, 
sir. ' ' 

"Precisely  my  opinion  of  you,  sir.  You  commenced 
hostilities;  and  if  you  have  caught  a  Tartar  you  have 
only  yourself  to  thank." 

You  broke  into  my  carriage " 

Your  carriage,  sir!     My  carriage  just  as  much  as 
yours — more  so.     You  are  an  unsocial  person,  sir." 

"Enough  said,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman.  "It  does 
not  matter.     Enough  said,  if  you  please." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Jack,  more  good  humoredly,  "I 
apologize.  I  have  been  unnaturally  repressed  for  the 
last  three  months ;  and  I  exploded  this  morning  like  a 
bombshell.  The  force  of  the  explosion  was  not  quite 
spent  when  I  met  you;  and  perhaps  I  had  less  regard 
for  your  seniority  than  I  might  have  shewn  at  another 
time." 

"My  seniority  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  question, 
sir.     My  age  is  no  concern  of  yours." 

1 '  Hush,  father, ' '  whispered  the  lady.  ' '  Do  not  reply 
to  him.     It  is  not  dignified. ' ' 

The  old  gentleman  was  about  to  make  some  angry 
reply,  when  the  train  ran  alongside  the  platform  at 
Paddington,  and  a  porter  opened  the  door,  crying, 
"Ensom  or  foa'  w'eol,  sir." 


66  Love  Amoni/  the  Artists 


t> 


"Get  me  a  hansom,  porter." 
"Right,  sir.     Luggage,  sir-" 

"There  is  a  tin  box,"  said  the  lady,  "a  brown  one 
With  the  initials  M.    B    <>:i  it." 

The   p  ached   Ins   cap   and   went  away.      The 

gentleman  got  out,  and  waited  wiih  his  daughter  at  the 
carriage  door,  awaiting  the  return  of  the  porter.  jack 
slowly  followed,  ai  ate,  near  them,  the 

ly  person  there  without  business  or  destination. 
"I    winder   what   is  delaying   that    fellow   with   our 
. '■),"    said     the     i  Qtleman,    after    about      fifteen 

seconds.       "The    va.  :ul     ha>    been     picked     up     by 

someone  else,  and  h  .  □  us.     Are  we  to  stand 

here  all  day?" 

"lie  will  be  here  pr         '>'»"  said  Magdalen.     "IU- 

has  not  had  time " 

"He has  had  time  to  call  twenty  •  since.     Remain 

here  until  I  return,  Madge.     Do  you  hear?" 

"Ye  lid    the   girl.       He    looked    severely   at   her, 

and     walked     away    '  S&ge    van.      Her 

as   she    looked   after   him.      Meanwhile   the 

porter    had    placed    the    box   on    a   cab;    and    he    now 

returned  to  Magdalen. 

"This  way.  Mil         W'ere's  the  genlman?" 
She  looked  quickly  at  the   porter;  then  towards  the 
crowd   in    which   her    father   had   disappeared;    then, 
after  a  moment  of  painful  hesitation,  at  Jack,  who  was 

still  standing  near. 

"Never  mind  the  gentleman,"  she  said  to  the 
porter:  "he  is  not  coming  with  me."  And  as  he 
turned  to  lead  the  way  to  the  cab,  she  pulled  off  her 
glove;  took  a  ring  from  her  finger;  and  addressed  Jack 
with  a  burning  but  determined  face. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  67 

"I  have  no  money  to  pay  for  my  cab.  Will  you 
give  me  some  in  exchange  for  this  ring — a  few  shil- 
lings will  be  enough?  Pray  do  not  delay  me.  Yes  or 
no?" 

Jack  lost  only  a  second  in  staring  amazedly  at  her 
before  he  thrust  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  out 
a  quantity  of  gold,  silver  and  bronze  coin,  more  than 
she  could  grasp  with  ease.  "Keep  the  ring,"  he  said. 
"Away  with  you." 

"You  must  take  it,"  she  said  impatiently.  "And  I 
do  not  need  all  this  mon " 

"Thousand  thunders!"  exclaimed  Jack  with  sudden 
excitement,  "here  is  your  father.     Be  quick." 

She  looked  round,  scared;  but  as  Jack  pushed  her 
unceremoniously  towards  the  cab,  she  recovered  her- 
self and  hurried  into  the  hansom. 

"Here,  porter:  give  this  ring  to  that  gentleman," 
she  said,  giving  the  man  a  shilling  and  the  ring. 
"Why  doesn't  he  drive  on?"  she  added,  as  the  cab 
remained  motionless,  and  the  porter  stood  touching 
his  cap. 

"Whereto,  Miss?" 

"Bond  Street,"  she  cried.  "As  fast  as  possible. 
Do  make  him  start  at  once." 

"Bond  Street, "  shouted  Jack  commandingly  to  the 
driver.  "Make  haste.  Double  fare.  Prestissimo!" 
And  the  cab  dashed  out  of  the  station  as  if  the  horse 
had  caught  Jack's  energy. 

The  lady  gev  me  this  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  porter. 
Yes,"  said  Jack,  "Thank  you."  It  was  an  old- 
fashioned  ring,  with  a  diamond  and  three  emeralds,  too 
small  for  his  little  finger.  He  pocketed  it,  and  was 
considering  what  he  should   do   next,    when   the   old 


1 1, 


L<        Among  the  Art 


o 


Dtleman,   no  longer  impatient  and  querulous,   but 

pale    and   alarmed,  came    by,  looking   anxiously   about 

him.     When  he  saw  Jack  he  made  a  movement  as 

though    to    appr<  ach     him,    but    checked    himself    and 

resumed  his  b   in  another  direction.      Jack  began 

feel    b  compunction;     for     the    gentleman's 

hanging  h  grief  and 

The  ^         I  and  bust'.         re  diminishing, 
th  iculty  in        mining  tely  all  the 

rs    wh  d    the    platform.     Jack 

Ived  i  mid  '  to  betr 

th'  :i  to  I  at  he  had 

ilked  only  a  1  hen,  hearii  hind 

him    say,  him.  turned    and    found 

himself  face  to  t.        with  th<  tleman.     The 

rter  aid   I   know,  sir?      I 

with  you ;  an'  I  I 
the  1  akin*  to  him  arte:  Is.  '<  money 

[told        u.  vou'd 

lei  '  ••  irter  it  to 

the  v  oldn't  b 

well:     that     will    do."      Th       |     :ter    made 
pretence  of  t    remained    within    hearin    . 

"Now,    sir,'"    continued    the    gentleman,    addressing 

Jack,  "I   b  t  you  If  you  don't  tell  me  at 

once — at  once,  the  I  ress  of  the  theatrical 

scoundrels  to  whom  y  e  spy  and  kidnapper:  by — 

by — by  God!     I'll  giv        a  to  the  nearest  policeman. " 

"Sir,"  -.rid  Jack  sternly:  "if  your  daughter  has  run 
away  from  you.  it  is  your  own  fault  for  not  treating 
her  kindly.  The  porter  has  told  you  what  happened 
between  us.  I  know  no  more  of  the  matter  than  he 
does." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  69 

"I  don't  believe  you.  You  followed  her  from 
Windsor.  The  porter  saw  you  give  her"  (here  the 
old  gentleman  choked) — "saw  what  passed  here  just 
now. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir.  You  leave  your  daughter  penniless,  and 
compel  her  to  offer  her  ornaments  for  sale  to  a 
stranger  at  a  railway  station.  By  my  soul,  you  are 
a  nice  man  to  have  charge  of  a  young  girl." 

My  daughter  is  incapable  of  speaking  to  a  stranger. 
You  are  in  the  pay  of  one  of  those  infernal  theatrical 
agents  with  whom  she  has  been  corresponding.  But 
I'll  unmask  you,  sir.     I'll  unmask  you." 

"If  you  were  not  an  inveterately  wrongheaded  old 
fool,"  said  Jack  hotly,  "you  would  not  mistake  a 
man  of  genius  for  a  crimp.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  your  temper.  You  are  collecting  a  crowd  too.  Do 
you  want  the  whole  railway  staff  to  know  that  you 
have  driven  your  daughter  away?" 

"You  lie,  you  villain,"  cried  the  gentleman,  seizing 
him  by  the  collar,  "you  lie.  How  dare  you,  you — you 
— pock-marked  ruffian,  say  that  I  drove  away  my 
daughter?  I  have  been  invariably  kind  to  her — no 
parent  more   so.     She   was  my  special  favorite.      If 

you  repeat  that  slander,  I'll — I'll "     He  shook  his 

fist  in  Jack's  face,  and  released  him.  Jack,  who  had 
suffered  the  grasp  on  his  collar  without  moving, 
turned  away  deeply  offended,  and  buttoned  his  coat. 
Then,  as  the  other  was  about  to  recommence,  he 
interrupted  him  by  walking  away.  The  gentleman 
followed  him  promptly. 

"You  shall  not  escape  by  running  off,"  he  said, 
panting. 

You  have  insulted  me,  sir,"  said  Jack.     "If  you 


« c 


jo  Love  Ainon^  the  Artists 

address  another  word  to  me,  I'll  hand  yon  to  the 
police.  As  I  cannot  protect  myself  against  a  man  of 
your  years,  I  will  make  the  law  protect  me." 

The  gentleman  hesitated.  Then  his  eyes  bright- 
ened; and  he  said,  "Then  call  the  police.  Call  them 
quickly.  You  have  a  ring  of  mine  about  you — an 
heirloom  of  my  family.  You  shall  acount  for  it.  Ah! 
I  have  yon  now,  you  vagabond." 

"Pshaw!"  said  Jack,  recovering  from  a  momentary 
check,  l*she  sent  me  the  ring  by  the  hands  of  tfa  ' 
porter,  .although  I  refused  it.  I  might  as  well  accuse 
her  of  Stealing  my  money." 

"It  shall  be  refunded  at  once,"  said  the  gentleman, 
reddening  and  pulling  out  his  purse.  "How  much  did 
you  give  her"' 

"How  should   I  know  Jaek   with   scorn.      "I 

do  not  count  what   I  give   to  women  who  are  in  need. 
I  gave  her  what  I  found  in  m  t.      Are  you  will- 

ing to  give  me  what  you  find  in  yours-" 

"By    ;     -     a,    you     ai      an     incredibly    impudent 

swindler,"  CI1<  I    tl  ntleman,  looking   at   him  with 

inexpressible  feeling 

"Come,  gentlemen. "  said  an  official,  advancing 
between  them,  "couldn't  you  settle  your  little 
difference  somewhere  else?*' 

"I  am  a  passenger,"  said  Jack;  "and  am  endeavor- 
ing to  leave  the  station.  If  it  is  your  business  to  keep 
order  here,  I  wish  you  would  rid  me  of  this  gentle- 
man. He  has  annoyed  me  ever  since  the  train  started 
from  Slough." 

"I  am  in  a  most  painful  position,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  emotion.  "I  have  lost  my  child  here; 
and  this  man  knows  her  whereabouts.      He   will  tell 


Love  Among  the  Artists  71 

me  nothing;  and  I — I  don't  know  what  to  do." 
Then,  turning  to  Jack  with  a  fresh  explosion  of 
wrath,  he  cried,  "Once  for  all,  you  villain,  will  you 
tell  me  who  your  employers  are?" 

"Once  for  all,"  replied  Jack,  "I  will  tell  you  noth- 
ing, because  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you.  You  refuse 
to  believe  me;  you  are  infernally  impertinent  to  me; 
you  talk  about  my  employers  and  of  spying  and 
kidnapping:  I  think  you  are  mad." 

"Are  you  not  a  theatrical  agent?     Answer  that." 

"No.  I  am  not  a  theatrical  agent.  As  I  told  you 
before,  I  am  a  composer  and  teacher  of  music.  If  you 
have  any  pupils  for  me,  I  shall  be  glad  to  teach  them : 
if  not,  go  your  way,  and  let  me  go  mine.  I  am  tired 
of  you." 

"There,  sir,"  said  the  official,  "the  gentleman  can't 
answer  you  no  fairer  nor  that.  If  you  have  a  charge 
to  make  against  him,  why,  charge  him.  If  not,  as  he 
says,  you  had  better  move  on.  Let  me  call  you  a  cab, 
and  you  can  follow  the  young  lady.  That's  the  best 
thing  you  can  do.  She  might  run  as  far  as  Scotland 
while  you're  talking.  Send  down  a  'ansom  there,  Bill, 
will  you?" 

The  man  laid  his  hand  persuasively  on  the  arm  of 
the  old  gentleman,  who  hesitated,  with  his  lip 
trembling. 

"Sir,"  said  Jack,  with  sudden  dignity:  "on  my 
honor  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  to  your  daughter  and 
her  affairs.  You  know  all  that  passed  between  us.  If 
you  do  not  wish  to  lose  sight  of  me,  give  me  your 
card;  and  I  will  send  you  my  address  as  soon  as  I 
have  one." 

"I  request — I — I  implore  you  not  to  trifle  with  me 


j 2  Love  Among  the  Artists 

in  this  matter,"  said  the  gentleman,  slowly  taking  out 
his  card  case.  "It  would  be  a — a  heartless  thing  to 
do.  Here  is  my  card.  If  v<>u  have  any  information, 
or  can  acquire  any,  it  shall  be  liberally  paid  for — most 
liberally  pal 

Jack,    offended    afresh,    looked    at   him    with    scorn; 

snatched     the    card,    and    turned    on     his    heel.      The 

Qtleman      looked      wistfully      after     him;      sighed; 

shivered;    and       I    into  the  cab. 

The   card    was   inscribed,    "Mr.    Siuismund    Brails- 

rsiNOTOM  Palaci  Gardens." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  fortnight  later  the  Sutherlands,  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Beatty,  were  again  in  London,  on  their  way  to 
the  Isle  of  Wight.  It  had  been  settled  that  Herbert 
should  go  to  Ventnor  for  a  month  with  his  mother,  so 
that  Mary  and  he  might  sketch  the  scenery  of  the 
island  together.  He  had  resisted  this  arrangement  at 
first  on  the  ground  that  Mrs.  Herbert's  presence  would 
interfere  with  his  enjoyment;  but  Mary,  who  had  lost 
her  own  mother  when  an  infant,  had  ideas  of  maternal 
affection  which  made  Adrian's  unfilial  feeling  shock- 
ing to  her.  She  entreated  him  to  come  to  Ventnor; 
and  he  yielded,  tempted  by  the  prospect  of  working 
beside  her,  and  foreseeing  that  he  could  easily  avoid 
his  mother's  company  whenever  it  became  irksome  to 
him. 

One  day,  whilst  they  were  still  in  London  at  the 
hotel  in  Onslow  Gardens,  Mr.  Sutherland,  seeing  his 
daughter  with  her  hat  and  cloak  on,  asked  whither  she 
was  going. 

"I  am  going  to  the  Brailsfords',  to  see  Madge,"  she 
replied. 

"Now  what  do  you  want  to  go  there  for?"  grumbled 
Mr.  Sutherland.  "I  do  not  like  your  associating  with 
that  girl." 

"Why,  papa?  Are  you  afraid  that  she  will  make  me 
run  away  and  go  on  the  stage?" 

"I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  kind.  But  she  can't 
be    a     very     right-minded     young    woman,     or    she 

73 


74  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 

wouldn't  have  done  so  herself.  However,  I  have  no 
icction  to  your  calling  on  the  family.  They  are 
very  nice  people — well  connected;  and  Mr.  Brailsford 
is  a  clever  man.  But  don't  go  making  a  companion 
of  Madge." 

"I  shall  not  have  the  opportunity,  I  am  sorry  to 
say.  Poor  Madj  '  Nobody  has  a  good  word  for 
her." 

Mr.  Sutherland  muttered  a  string  t>f  uncomplimen- 
tary epithets;  but  Mary  went  out  without  heeding 
him.     At  Kensington  Palace  Gardens  she  found  Mag- 

D   Bt  ii's ford  a' 
"They  are  all  out,"  said    M       lalen   when  Mary  had 
done   kissing   h  "They    are    visiting,    or   shopping, 

or  doing  ng  else   equally  in  tell         il     I  am 

SUpp  t<>  be  in  d  i  I  am  ne\  ked  to  go 

with   them.      As   I  would   not  if  they  d  me  on 

their  knees,  I  bear  the  punishment  with  fortitude." 

"But  what  have  you  done,  Mad-  Won't  you  tell 
me?  Aunt  Jane  said  that  her  conscience  would  not 
permit  her   I  >UT   such  a  story  into   my  young  cars ; 

and   then  i  mrse  I    refused  to  hear  it   from  anybody 

but  yourself,  much  to  Aunt  Jane's  disgust;  for  she 
was  burning  to  tell  n.  Except  that  you  ran  away 
and  went  on  the  stage,  I  know  nothing. 

"There  is  nothing  else  to  know;  for  that  is  all  that 
happened. " 

"But  how  did  it  come  about?" 

"Will  you  promise  not  to  tell?" 

"I  promise  faithfully." 

"You  must  keep  your  promise;  for  I  have  accom- 
plices who  are  not  suspected,  and  who  will  help  me 
when  I  repeat  the  exploit,  as  I   fully  intend  to  do  the 


44 
(4- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  75 

very  instant  I  see  my  way  to  success.     Do  you  know 
where  we  lived  before  we  came  to  this  house?" 

No.     You  have  lived  here  ever  since  I  knew  you." 
'We  had  lodgings  in  Gower  Street.     Mary,  did  you 
ever  ride  in  an  omnibus?" 

44  No.  But  I  should  not  be  in  the  least  ashamed  to 
do  so  if  I  had  occasion. ' ' 

"How  would  you  like  to  have  to  make  five  pounds 
worth  of  clothes  last  you  for  two  years?" 

"I  should  not  like  that." 

"Lots  of  people  have  to  do  it.  We  had,  when  we 
lived  in  Gower  Street.  Father  wrote  for  the  papers; 
and  we  never  had  any  money,  and  were  always  in 
debt.  But  we  went  to  the  theatres — with  orders,  of 
course — much  oftener  than  we  do  now;  and  we  either 
walked  home  or  took  our  carriage,  the  omnibus.  We 
were  recklessly  extravagant,  and  thought  nothing  of 
throwing  away  a  shilling  on  flowers  and  paper  fans  to 
decorate  the  rooms.  I  am  sure  we  spent  a  fortune  on 
three-penny  cretonne,  to  cover  the  furniture  when  its 
shabbiness  became  downright  indecent.  We  were 
very  fond  of  dwelling  on  the  lavish  way  we  would 
spend  money  if  father  ever  came  into  the  Brailsford 
property,  which  seemed  the  most  unlikely  thing  in 
the  world.  But  it  happened,  as  unlikely  things  often 
do.  All  the  rest  of  the  family — I  mean  all  of  it  that 
concerned  us — were  drowned  in  the  Solent  in  a  yacht 
accident ;  and  we  found  ourselves  suddenly  very  rich, 
and,  as  I  suppose  you  have  remarked — especially  in 
Myra — very  stingy.  Poor  father,  whom  we  used  to 
revile  as  a  miser  in  Gower  Street,  is  the  only  one  of 
us  who  spends  money  as  if  he  was  above  caring  about 
it.     But  the  worst  of  it  is  that  we  have  got  respect- 


76  Love  Among  the  Artists 

able,  and  taken  to  society — at  least,  society  has  taken 
to    us;     and   we   have   retut  the    compliment.       I 

haven't,   though.      I    can't    stand    these   Kensington 

people  with  their  dances  and  at-homes.  It's  not  what 
I  call  livil  illy.      In  Grower  Street  we  used  to  know 

a  set   that   had  some   brains.      We  gave  ourselves  airs 

ren  then;  hut  still  on   Sunday  evenings  we  used  to 

have  plenty  of  with  us  to  snpper  whom  you  are 

not   likely    to   meet    here.       One   of    them    was   a    man 

named    T  1    made    money    as    a    theatrical 

nt  and  lost  it  as  a  man  alternately." 

"Anil  ymi  fell  in  love  with  him,  of  course,"  said 
Mary. 

14 Bosh!  Fell  in  love  with  old  Tommy  Tarleton! 
This   is   not  a  romance,    but  a   |         tic   Gow<        Street 

narrative.      I   never  t'  at  about  him  after  we  came 

here  until  a  month  ago,  when  I  saw  that  he  was 
taking  a  company  to  Windsor.  I  always  wanted  to  go 
on   the  vs   a   woman    must   be 

either  an   actr<  r  nothinj  •   I  wrote   to  him  for 

an  ment,  and  sent  him  my  -ph." 

"Oh  Madge!" 

"Why  not?  His  company  was  playing  opera  boufTe; 
and  I  knew  he  wanted  good  looks  as  much  as  talent. 
You  don't  suppose  I  sent  it  as  a  love  token.  He  wrote 
back  that  he  had  no  part  open  that  I  could  take,  but 
that  if  I  wished  to  accustom  myself  to  the  stage  and 
would  find  my  own  di  esses,  he  would  let  me  walk  on 
every  night  in  the  chorus,  and  perhaps  find  me  a  small 
part  to  understudy." 

"Very  kind,  indeed.  And  what  did  you  say  to  his 
noble  offer?" 

"I  accepted  it,  and  was  very  glad  to  get  it.     It  was 


Love  Among  the  Artists  yj 

better  than  sitting  here  quarrelling  with  the  girls, 
and  going  over  the  same  weary  argument  with  father 
about  disgracing  the  family.  I  managed  it  easily 
enough,  after  all.  There  is  a  woman  who  keeps  a 
lodging  house  in  Church  Street  here,  who  is  a  sister 
of  the  landla.dy  at  Gower  Street,  and  knows  all  about 
us.  She  has  a  second  sister  whose  daughter  is  a  ballet 
girl,  and  who  is  used  to  theatres.  I  ran  away  to 
Church  Street — five  minutes'  walk;  told  Polly  what 
I  had  done ;  and  made  her  send  for  Mrs.  Wilkins,  the 
other  sister,  whom  I  carried  off  to  Windsor  as  chaperon 
that  evening.  But  the  company  turned  out  to  be  a 
third-rate  one;  and  I  wasn't  comfortable  with  them: 
they  were  rather  rowdy.  However,  I  did  not  stay 
long.  I  was  recognized  on  the  very  first  night  by 
someone — I  don't  know  whom — who  told  Colonel 
Beatty.  He  wrote  to  my  father;  and  I  was  captured 
on  the  third  day.  You  can  imagine  the  scene  when 
the  poor  old  governor  walked  suddenly  into  our  lodg- 
ing. He  tried  to  be  shocked  and  stern,  and  of  course 
only  succeeded  in  being  furious.  I  was  stubborn — I 
can  be  very  mulish  when  I  like;  but  I  was  getting 
tired  of  walking  on  in  the  chorus  at  night  and  spend- 
ing the  day  with  Mrs.  Wilkins;  so  I  consented  to  go 
back  with  him.  He  took  my  purse,  which  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  leave  within  his  reach  whilst  I  was 
putting  on  my  bonnet,  and  so  left  me  without  a  far- 
thing, helplessly  dependent  on  him.  He  would  not 
give  it  me  back ;  and  to  revenge  myself  I  became  very 
uncivil  to  him;  and  then  he  forbade  me  to  speak.  I 
took  him  at  his  word,  and  made  him  still  madder  by 
taking  no  notice  of  the  homilies  on  duty  and  respect- 
ability which  he  poured  forth  as  we  drove  to  the  train. ' ' 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Yes:  I  can  quite  imagine  that  And  so  you  came 
home  and  returned  to  the  ways  of  well  conducted  girls.  " 

"Not  at  all.  You  have  only  heard  the  prologue  to 
my    real    adventure.       When    we  I     to   the    railway 

station,  father,  who  intended  t<>  preach  at  me  daring 

the  whole  journey,  bribed  the  rd  to  prevent  people 

from    coming     into     our     compartment.     The    train 
irted,  and    I    had    just   been    requested    to   attend   to 
something  very  that    must   be   said    to    me, 

when  there  was  an  uproar  on  the  platform,  and   a  man 

burst  headlong  into  the  carriage;  sat  down;  folded  his 

arms;   and  stared    maj-  illy  at  father,   who  began  to 

use  him  furiously  for  intruding  on  us.  They 
quarrelled  all  the  way  up  to  London.      When  they  had 

exhausted  the  subject  of  our  carriage  being  private, 

the  man  objected  to  the  window  being  shut — I  think 
because  I  had  done  so  just  before,  though  perhaps  it 
was  more  from  love  i  f  Mltradiction.  Then  father 
objected  to  his  grinding  his  teeth.     Then  I  interfered 

and  was   bidden    to   hold    my  tongue.       Up   jumped   the 

man  and   asked   father  what   he  meant   by  iking      i 

to  me.  He  even  said— you  will  not  repeat  this, 
pie  Mary." 

"No.      Why'     What  did  he  say'" 

"He  said — it  sounded  ridiculous — that  he  would  not 
permit  a  young-  and  beautiful  woman  to  be  tyrannized 
over." 

"Oh!     "Was  he  very  handsome-" 

"X — no.  He  was  not  conventionally  handsome; 
but  there  was  something  about  him  that  I  cannot  very 
well  describe.  It  was  a  sort  of  latent  power.  How- 
ever, it  does  not  matter,  as  I  suppose  I  shall  never  see 
him  again." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  79 

"I  think  I  can  understand  what  you  mean,"  said 
Mary  thoughtfully.  "There  are  some  men  who  are 
considered  quite  ugly,  but  who  are  more  remark- 
able than  pretty  people.  You  often  see  that  in 
artists." 

"This  man  was  not  in  the  least  like  your  Adrian, 
though,  Mary.  No  two  people  could  be  more 
different." 

"I  know.  I  was  thinking  of  a  very  different 
person." 

"Father  speaks  of  him  as  though  he  were  a  monster; 
but  that  is  perfect  nonsense." 

"Well,  what  was  the  upshot  of  this  interference?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  they  would  have  come  to  blows  at 
first.  Father  would  fight  duels  every  day  if  they 
were  still  in  fashion.  But  the  man  made  an  admirable 
speech  which  shewed  me  that  his  opinions  were  exactly 
the  same  as  mine;  and  father  could  say  nothing  in 
reply.  Then  they  accused  each  other  of  being  insane, 
and  kept  exchanging  insults  until  we  came  to  Padding- 
ton,  where  the  guard  wanted  to  give  the  man  to  the 
police  for  getting  into  the  train  after  it  had  started. 
At  last  we  all  got  out;  and  then  I  committed  my 
capital  crime — it  really  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  do. 
But  ever  since  father  had  taken  my  purse  and  made  a 
prisoner  of  me,  I  had  been  thinking  of  how  I  could 
give  him  the  slip  and  come  home  just  how  and  when 
I  pleased.  Besides,  I  was  quite  resolved  to  apply  to  a 
London  agent  for  a  regular  engagement  in  some 
theatre.  So  when  father  got  into  a  passion  about  my 
box  not  being  found  instantly,  and  went  off  to  look  for 
it,  leaving  me  by  myself,  the  idea  of  escaping  and 
going  to  the  agent  at  once  occurred  to  me.     I  ma,de 


8o  Love  Anions  the  Artists 


D 


up  my  mind  and  unmade  it  a.  ,  twenty  times  in 
c.  econd.     I  should  not  have  hesitated  a  moment 

- 

if    I    had   had  my  pi  but  as  it   was,  I    had  only  my 

ring;,  so  that  I  have  had   t<>  stop  the  cab  at   the 

near  and    I    was  ashamed   to  go   into 

such  a  place—  a  gh  w<  metimea  used  to  send 
Mrs.  Wilkina  there,  without  letting  father  know,  in 
the   (  Then    the  :er   came    up 

and    said    that    the  cab   was   v  and    I    knew  he 

would  -  t  something  then  and  there   from  me  if  I 

•If.  What  do  you  think  I  did?  I 
went  Straight  up  t«>  the  man  who  had  travelled  with  us 
— he  was  standing  close  by,  watching  me,  I  think — and 

Iced  him  to  buy  my  ring 

"Well.  Ma  VY—:" 

"It  was  an   impul  I  don't  know  what  put  it  into 

my  he  at  the  d  Q<         ity  of  paying  the 

••  -   hurr:  ic   in:  [ng   il        I    sail    I  had   no 

m  ind    a  r   a    little    in    exchange    for   the 

rinj        The   m  at    me   in  the  most  terrify; 

:   and  jr.  -  him  to  seize  me  and 

ei   me   up  1    int  >  his  pocket 

as  me  a  handful  of  money.      He   wonld  not 

count  it,  nor  touch  the  ring.  I  waa  insisting  on  his 
taking  either  the  >r  the  money,  when  lie  suddenly 

shouted   at   me   that   father  was  comi  md   bundl' 

me  into  the  cab  bel         I  had  collected  my  wits.      Then 
he  startled   the  driver  with  another  shout;  and  away 
the  cab.  it  I  managed  t<>  give  the  ring  to  the 

porter  for  him.  I  drove  to  the  agents  in  Bond  Street, 
and  on  my  way  counted  the  money:  two  sovereigns, 
three  half-sovereigns,  thirteen  and  sixpence  in  silver, 
and  seven  pennies.  " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  81 

"Four  pounds,  four,  and  a  penny,"  said  Mary. 
"He  must  have  been  mad.  But  there  was  something 
chivalrous  about  it,  especially  for  a  nineteenth  century 
incident  at  Paddington. " 

"I  think  it  was  sheer  natural  nobility  of  heart, 
Mary.  Father  enrages  me  by  saying  that  he  was  a 
thief,  and  made  fifty  pounds  profit  out  of  my  inno- 
cence. As  if  his  refusing  the  ring  was  not  an  abso- 
lute proof  to  the  contrary.  He  got  our  address  from 
father  afterwards,  and  promised  to  send  us  his;  but 
he  has  never  done  so." 

"I  wonder  why.  He  certainly  ought  to.  Your  ring 
is  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  four  pounds." 

"He  might  not  wish  to  give  it  up  to  my  father,  as 
it  was  mine.  If  he  wishes  to  keep  it  he  is  welcome. 
I  am  sure  he  deserves  it.  Mind :  he  refused  it  after 
giving  me  the  money." 

"If  you  had  a  nose  like  mine,  and  wore  a  pince-nez, 
I  doubt  whether  you  would  have  found  him  so 
generous.     I  believe  he  fell  in  love  with  you." 

"Nonsense.  Who  ever  knew  a  man  to  sacrifice  all 
his  money — all  he  had  in  the  world,  perhaps — for  the 
sake  of  love?  I  know  what  men  are  too  well.  Besides, 
he  was  quite  rude  to  me  once  in  the  carriage. ' ' 

"Well,  since  he  has  the  ring,  and  intends  to  keep 
it,  he  has  the  best  of  the  bargain.  Go  on  with  your 
own  adventures.     What  did  the  agents  say?" 

"They  all  took  half-crowns  from  me,  and  put  my 
name  on  their  books.  They  are  to  write  to  me  if  they 
can  procure  me  an  engagement;  but  I  saw  enough  to 
convince  me  that  there  is  not  much  chance.  They 
are  all  very  agreeable — that  is,  they  thought  them- 
selves so — except  one  grumpy  old  man,  who  asked  me 


82  Love  Among  the  Artists 

what  I  expected  when  I  could  neither  walk  nor  speak. 
That,  and  my  sei  as  on  the  stage  at  Windsor,  con- 

vinced me  that  I  need  some  instruction;  and  I  have 
set    Mrs.    Sir         n,    th  -man   in   Church   Street,    to 

find  S'  >dy  who  can  teach  me.     However,  to  finish 

my  story,  when  I  saw  that  there  was  nothing  more  to 
be  done  that  .  <>r  the  next  either,  I  told  the  cabman 

to  drive  me  home,  where  I  found  father  nearly  in 
hysteri<  As  B     □  as  the  family  recovered  from  their 

amazement  at  Beeing  me,  v.  -old  and  aim 

one  another.      They  v  al  that  father  at  last 

took  my   part;   and   poor  mother   vainly  tried   to  keep 

the  pea'         At  Last  the-  ne  crying, 

and  left  me  alone  with  father.  I  fancy  we  gave  them 
as  .  1  as  they  brought;  for  no  allusion  has  been 
made  to  my  esca; 

Mary  1   at   her   friend   for  a  whili        Then  she 

said,    "Madge:     you    are   quite    ::  There    is   not   a 

d<>iibt  of  it :  tl.  ■  he  rii       ettl      the     •■ 

tion    finally.     I    suppose   you    r  1    th         •  dlamite 

advent':         1  the  most  simple  and  natural  thing  in  the 

world." 

"When  I   have  my  mind   made  up  to  do  something, 

it  seems  the  most  natural  thing  in  th<  rid  to  go  and 

do  it.  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  lecture  me  for 
adopting  a  profession,  after  all  your  rhapsodies  about 
high  art  and  rth. " 

"But  opera  bouffe  is  not  high  art,  Madge.  If  you 
had  appeared  in  one  of  Shak^pere's  characters,  I 
should  sympathize  with  you." 

"Yes,  make  a  fool  of  myself  as  a  lady  amateur!  I 
have  no  more  ambition  to  play  Shakspere  than  you 
have  to  paint  Transfiguration        Now,  don't  begin  to 


Love  Among  the  Artists  83 

argue  about  Art.  I  have  had  enough  of  argument 
lately  to  last  me  for  life." 

"And  you  mean  to  persist?" 

"Yes.     Why  not?" 

"Of  course,  if  you  have  talent " 

"Which  you  don't  believe,  although  you  can  see 
nothing  ridiculous  in  your  own  dreams  of  being 
another  Claude  Lorraine.  You  are  just  like  Myra, 
with  her  pet  formula  of,  'Well,  Madge,  the  idea  oi yon 
being  able  to  act!'  Why  should  I  not  be  able  to  act 
as  well  as  anybody  else?     I  intend  to  try,  at  any  rate." 

"You  need  not  be  angry  with  me,  Madge.  I  don't 
doubt  your  cleverness;  but  an  actress's  life  must  be 
a  very  queer  one.  And  I  never  said  I  could  paint 
better  than  Claude.  If  you  knew  how  wretched  my 
own  productions  seem  to  me,  you " 


<  <- 


Yes,  yes:  I  know  all  that  stuff  of  Adrian's  by 
heart.  If  you  don't  like  your  own  pictures,  you  may 
depend  upon  it  no  one  else  will.  I  am  going  to  be  an 
actress  because  I  think  I  can  act.  You  are  going  to 
be  a  painter  because  you  think  you  can't  paint.  So 
there's  an  end  of  that.  Would  you  mind  coming  over 
to  Polly's  with  me?" 

"Who  is  Polly?" 

"Our  old  landlady's  sister — my  accomplice — the 
woman  who  keeps  the  lodging  house  in  Church  Street, 
Mrs.  Simpson." 

"You  don't  mean  to  run  away  again?" 

"No.  At  least  not  yet.  But  she  has  a  lodger  who 
teaches  elocution;  and  as  he  is  very  poor,  Mrs. 
Wilkins — Polly's  other  sister  and  my  late  chaperon — 
thinks  he  would  give  me  some  cheap  lessons.  And  I 
must  have  them  very  cheap,  or  else  go  without;  for 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

father  will  hardly  trust  me  with  a  shilling  now.  He 
has  never  even  given  me  back  my  pur-  I  have 
only    t:  r   of    the    man's    money,    and    ten 

mils  that  I  had  laid  up. " 

"And  arc  you  going  I        ke  a  k       a  to-day?" 

"No,  D  I  only  want   to   sec   the   man   and  ask  his 

terms.      If   I    try  to   go   alone,  I    shall    be  watched  and 

With  yon  I  shall  :  they  regard  you 

a  monument  of  .  and  propriety.     If  we 

nv  my   of   the   girls,    and    they    ask    where    we   are 

not  ment:    Q  CI  et." 

"  But  1.         an  w<   •  them  if  tl         sk  us?" 

"We  won't  i  -hem.      We  will  tell  them  a  lie." 

"I  certainly  will  not,  M 

"I   «         nly   will.  interfere    with    my 

liberty,  and   ask  have  no  business 

to  ask,  I  will  mc(  ith   fraud,  and  fool  them  to 

the  top  of  their  :  -.id  Shakspere  sa\ 

Y<  ;■  •  1.     ¥< >u,  wl             mistress 

ur  h<  I       "    vith  a  rod  of  iron, 

no  jud  Put  on  your  hat,  and 

We  C  ffi  walk  there  in  five  minutes." 
"I  will  with  but   I   shall  not   be  a  party  to 

any  deception. 

Mad  e  ma  le  a  face,  but  got  her  bonnet  without 
further  words.  t  out  I    .      her,  and  traver 

the    passage     from     K  Palace    Gardens    to 

Church  Street,  where  Ma.  n  led  the  way  to  a 
shabby  house,  with  a  card  inscribed  Furnishld 
Apartments  in  the  window. 

"Is  Mrs,  Simpson  in  her  room?"  said  Magdalen, 
entering  unceremoniously  as  soon  as  the  door  was 
opened. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  85 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  servant,  whose  rule  it  was 
to  address  women  in  bonnets  as  ma'am,  and  women  in 
hats  as  Miss.  "She  'ave  moved  to  the  second  floor 
since  you  was  here  last.     The  parlors  is  let." 

"I  will  go  up,"  said  Magdalen.  "Come  on,  Mary." 
And  she  ran  upstairs,  followed  more  slowly  by  Mary, 
who  thought  the  house  close  and  ill  kept,  and  gathered 
her  cloak  about  her  to  prevent  it  touching  the 
banisters.  When  they  reached  the  second  floor,  they 
knocked  at  the  door;  but  no  one  answered.  Above 
them  was  a  landing,  accessible  by  a  narrow  uncarpeted 
stair.  They  could  hear  a  shrill  voice  in  conversation 
with  a  deep  one  on  the  third  floor,  Whilst  they 
waited,  the  shrill  voice  rose  higher  and  higher;  and 
the  deep  voice  began  to  growl  ominously. 

"A  happy  pair,"  whispered  Mary.  "We  had  better 
go  downstairs  and  get  the  servant  to  find  Mrs. 
Simpson." 

"No:  wait  a  little.  That  is  Polly's  voice,  I  am  sure. 
Hark!" 

The  door  above  was  opened  violently ;  and  a  power- 
ful voice  resounded,  saying,  "Begone,  you  Jezebel." 
The  man!"  exclaimed  Madge. 

Mr.   Jack!"    exclaimed    Mary.      And  they  looked 
wonderingly  at  one  another,  and  listened. 

"How  dare  you  offer  me  sich  language,  sir?  Do  you 
know  whose  'ouse  this  is?" 

"I  tell  you  once  for  all  that  I  am  neither  able  nor 
willing  to  pay  you  one  farthing.  Hold  your  tongue 
until  I  have  finished."  This  command  was  empha- 
sized by  a  stamp  that  shook  the  floor.  "I  have  eaten 
nothing  to-day;  and  I  cannot  afford  to  starve.  Here 
is  my  shirt.     Here   is    my  waistcoat.      Take  them — 


1  <i 


86  Love  Among  the  Artists 


come!  take  them,  or  I'll  stuff  them  down  your  throat 
— and  give  them  to  your  servant  to  pawn:  she  has 
pawned  the  shirt  before;  and  let  her  get  me  some- 
thing t<>  eat  with  the  mom  I»  |  hca: 

"I  will  not  ha\  "ant  (  pawnshop  for 

ynu,  and  get  my  }.  \  bad  nam< 

"Then   ;;'>  and   p  them   yourself.       And  do  not 

Come    to     this     room  air     threats     and 

mplaints  unl<          a  wish  1         strangled.*1 
"I'd  Like  to  a                                              a  marri 
woman.     Do  you  call  yourself  a  gentleman " 

I  Lie  t ';  •  ;>s, 

an   inarticulate   rem  -n,   and 

then    a   burst   I  and    the   w  Vou're   as 

hard    as    a    stone,     Mr.    Jack.         My  little    R 

(): 

"Stop  that  I  u  crocodile.      What  is  the  matter 

with  yon  i. 

"My  R( 

"What    is   the   matter   with    your    R  You    are 

Snivelling   to   have    her  hack  I  she  is  happier  in 

the  country  than  stifling  in  this  den  with  you,  you 
ung<  >vern 

"God  forgive  you  for  that  word — ohoo!  She  ain't  in 
the  country. " 

"Then  where  the  devil  is  she;  and  what  did  you 
mean  by  telling  me  she  was  there?" 

"She's  in  the  'ospittle.  For  the  Lord's  sake  don't 
let  it  get  out  on  me,  Mr.  Jack,  or  I  should  have  my 
house  empty.  The  poor  little  darling  took  the  scarlet 
fever;   and — and " 

"And  you  deserve  to  be  hanged  for  letting  her  catch 
it..     Why  did't  you  take  proper  care  of  her?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  87 

"How  could  I  help  it,  Mr.  Jack?     I'm  sure  if  I  could 
have  took  it  myself  instead ' ' 


< . 


;I  wish  to  Heaven  you  had,  and  the  unfortunate 
child  and  everybody  else  might  have  been  well  rid  of 
you." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  Mr.  Jack.  I  may  have  spoke 
hasty  to  you;  but  its  very  hard  to  be  owed  money,  and 
not  be  able  to  get  the  things  for  my  blessed  angel  to 
be  sent  to  the  country  in,  and  she  going  to  be  dis- 
charged on  Friday.  -  You  needn't  look  at  me  like  that, 
Mr.  Jack.     I  wouldn't  deceive  you  of  all  people." 

"You  would  deceive  your  guardian  angel — if  you 
had  one — for  a  shilling.  Give  me  back  those  things. 
Here  is  a  ring  which  you  can  pawn  instead.  It  is 
worth  something  considerable,  I  suppose.  Take  what 
money  you  require  for  the  child,  and  bring  me  the 
rest.  But  mind!  Not  one  farthing  of  it  shall  you 
have  for  yourself,  nor  should  you  if  I  owed  you  ten 
years'  rent.  I  would  not  pawn  it  to  save  you  from 
starvation.  And  get  me  some  dinner,  and  some  music 
paper — the  same  you  used  to  get  me,  twenty-four 
staves  to  the  page.  Off  with  you.  What  are  you 
gaping  at?" 

"Why,  wherever  did  you  get  this  ring,  Mr.  Jack?" 

"That's  nothing  to  you.  Take  it  away;  and  make 
haste  with  my  dinner." 

"But  did  you  buy  it?     Or  was  it "     The  voice 

abruptly  broke  into  a  smothered  remonstrance;  and 
the  landlady  appeared  on  the  landing,  apparently 
pushed  out  by  the  shoulders.  Then  the  lodger's  door 
slammed. 

"Polly,"  cried  Magdalen  impatiently.     "Polly." 

"Lor',  Miss  Madge!" 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Come  down  her  We  have  waited  ten  minutes 
for  you. " 

Mrs.    Simpson    came  >ught  her  two 

visit  to  her  :n  on    the   Becond   floor. 

"Won't    yon    sit  ..    M  id    to    Mary. 

"]  out  1  m  thi        11,  Miss  Ma  Ige: 

':e.  .    '       I'm     .  worrited, 

what  with  ter. 

"We    1.  attle    between  y 

and  th'  id  Magdalen;    "and  y 

to  be  getting  the  worst  of  it." 
"No  one  kn  l    I'v<  i  with  that 

man,"  Mrs.    Sim]        .    wiping    her  l  "He 

walked  ini  i  the  room  I  it, 

thout    a  leav  K  :t    th(  at    one 

o'  he  day,  the  girl  if  the  garret 

let   to   anyone.      "X    .  he. 

ami  pi  :'  he  ow 

BUI  !    knew  him  of   old;    hilt   that  Was  all   the    more 

him  ■  had  .i   b  llf- 

penny.     Tr.  first  thing  lie  sent  her  i  to 

LWn   his  watch.      And   th'  I    ha\  pat   up 

with    from   him!      He    thinks   no   more   <  Uing   me 

ery  n  .n   lay  his  to:  atting  me 

out  of  my  own  room   than  if  he  was  a  prince,  and  n. 
his  kitchen  r.  Hi  cares 

for  nothin.    I        nobody  but  himself." 

"What  is  h  den.     "His  name  is  Jack, 

isn't  it?" 

"Yes;  and  a  fit  name  it  is  for  him.  He  came  here 
first,    to    my   sorrow,    last    December,    and    took    the 

rret  for  half-a-crown  a  wee'  He  had  a  port- 
manteau .    and   some    little  money;    and  he   was 


Love  Among  the  Artists  89 

quiet  enough  for  almost  a  month.  But  he  kept  very 
much  to  himself  except  for  letting  poor  little  Rosie 
play  about  his  room,  and  teaching  her  little  songs. 
You  can't  think  what  a  queer  child  she  is,  Miss 
Sutherland.  I'm  sure  you'd  say  so  if  you  saw  Mr. 
Jack,  the  only  lodger  she  took  any  fancy  to.  At  last 
he  sent  the  servant  to  pawn  his  things;  and  I,  like  a 
fool,  was  loth  to  see  him  losing  his  clothes,  and  offered 
to  let  the  rent  run  if  he  could  pay  at  the  end  of  the 
month.  Then  it  came  out  that  he  was  in  the  music 
profession,  and  akshally  expected  to  get  pupils  while 
he  was  living  in  a  garret.  I  did  a  deal  for  him, 
although  he  was  nothing  to  me.  I  got  him  a  station- 
er's daughter  from  High  Street  to  teach.  After  six 
lessons,  if  you'll  believe  it,  Miss,  and  she  as  pleased  as 
anything  with  the  way  she  was  getting  along,  he  told 
the  stationer  that  it  was  waste  of  money  to  have  the 
girl  taught,  because  she  had  no  qualification  but  van- 
itv.  So  he  lost  her;  and  now  she  has  lessons  at  four 
guineas  a  dozen  from  a  lady  that  gets  all  the  credit  for 
what  he  taught  her.  Then  Simpson's  brother-in-law 
got  him  a  place  in  a  chapel  in  the  Edgeware  Road  to 
play  the  harmonium  and  train  the  choir.  But  they 
couldn't  stand  him.  He  treated  them  as  if  they  were 
dogs;  and  the  three  richest  old  ladies  in  the  congrega- 
tion, who  had  led  the  singing  for  forty-five  years, 
walked  out  the  second  night,  and  said  they  wouldn't 
enter  the  chapel  till  he  was  gone.  When  the  minister 
rebuked  him,  he  up  and  said  that  if  he  was  a  God  and 
they  sang  to  him  like  that,  he'd  scatter  'em  with  light- 
ning. That's  his  notion  of  manners.  So  he  had  to 
leave;  but  a  few  of  the  choir  liked  him  and  got  him 
occasionally  to  play  the  piano  at  a  glee  club  on  the 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

first    floor   of   B    public   house.      lie    got    five    shillh 

so  for  that;  and  not  another  half  - 

any  had  he  to  live  on  <  wning  his  clothes  bit 

by  bit     You  may  imagine  all  the  rent  1  got     At  I 
he  managed  someway  to  get   tool   on  as  tutor  by  a 

atlem  Wii  I  had  to  release  his  clothes 

out  of  n         WD  m<     '  go.      I  was  1. 

pound  out  of  pocket  by  him,  between  rent  and  other 
thii 

"  1  >:<!  h<  I  M  iry. 

.  Miss.     II  ent  me  the  money. 

I  am  ■    :'  from  .   that  he  is  not  horn         ■   when  he 

lias   the  means.  " 

"It   is  a  funny  coincid  id  M.  "It  -.. 

i   that    Mr.     I  tutor.  taught 

Charlie." 

'"    said     M  ..      ilen,    surpris*  by    DO 

means]'  I'hen  you  know  him? 

*'  Yes.     He  left  '     ght  ago. " 

"  |  ' '  rs.  Sin  •  i  glad  en<  >ugh 

to         e  str  ithout  a  penny  in  his 

t.  is  lik<  until   some  other 

situ  .       □  drops  into  his  la  If  I  may  ask,  Miss,  why 

did  he  leave  you?" 

>h.  £<  •  articular  reason."  said  Mary  Ul  ly. 

"That   is,  my   brother   had   left   Windsor;   and   we  did 
not  require  Mr.  Jack  any  more." 

"So  he  was  the  tutor  of  whom  Mrs.  Beatty  told 
motherv'  said  Magdalen  significantly. 

"Yes." 

"I  hope  he  was  pleasanter  in  your  house,  Miss,  than 
he  is  in  mine.  However,  that's  not  my  business.  I 
have  no  wish   to  intrude.      Ex  e  pt  the  letter  he  wrote 


Love  Among  the  Artists  91 

me  with  the  money,  not  a  civil  word  have  I  ever  had 
from  him. ' ' 

"A  lady  whom  I  know,"  said  Mary,  "employed  him, 
whilst  he  was  with  11s,  to  correct  come  songs  which  she 
wrote.  Perhaps  I  could  induce  her  to  give  him  some 
more.  I  should  like  to  get  him  something  to  do. 
But  I  am  afraid  she  was  offended  by  the  way  he 
altered  her  composition  last  time." 

"Well,  Polly,"  said  Magdalen,  "we  are  forgetting 
my  business.  Where  is  the  professor  that  Mrs. 
Wilkins  told  me  of?  I  wish  Mr.  Jack  gave  lessons  in 
elocution.     I  should  like  to  have  him  for  a  master." 

"Why,  Miss  Madge,  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  it 
is  Mr.  Jack.  But  wait  till  I  show  you  something. 
He's  given  me  a  ring  to  pawn;  and  it's  the  very 
moral  of  your  own  that  you  used  to  wear  in  Gower 
Street." 

"It  is  mine,  Polly.  I  owe  Mr.  Jack  four  guineas; 
and  I  must  pay  him  to-day.  Don't  stare:  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it  afterwards.  I  have  to  thank  him  too, 
for  getting  me  out  of  a  great  scrape.  Mary:  do  you 
wish  to  see  him?" 

"Well,  I  would  rather  not, "  said  Mary  slowly:  "at 
least,  I  think  it  would  be  better  not.  But  after  all  it 
can  do  no  harm;  and  I  suppose  it  would  not  be  right 
for  you  to  see  him  alone." 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,"  said  Magdalen  suspiciously. 
I  can  have  Polly  with  me. ' ' 

If  you  had  rather  not  have  me  present,  I  will  go.' 

"Oh,  I  don't  care.  Only  you  seemed  to  make  some 
difficulty  about  it  yourself." 

"There  can  be  no  real  difficulty,  now  that  I  come  to 
consider  it.     Yet — I  hardly  know  what  I  ought  to  do. " 


92  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"YOU    had    better     m:ike     up     your    mind,"     said 

Magdalen  impatiently. 

"Well,  Madge,  I  have  made  ap  my  mind,"  said 
Mary,  perching  h  nd  looking  composedly 

at  her  friend.      "I  will  stay." 

"Very  well."  Baid   M         .   not  with  a  very  good 

race:  "I  sup]  must  not  go  to  Mr.  J  he 

had  better  I  Polly  and  tell  him  that 

.  ladii  ih  to  sec  him. " 

"Yon  had  better  say  on   business."  added  Mary. 

And  don't  mention  onr   name       I  want  to    • 
whether    he  will   know   me  u,"  said  Magdalen. 

Mary  looked  hard  at  h< 

"  I  I '  illy  mean  it,  Misfl  M 

"Good  n  M  igdalen  angrily. 

The  lai        ly,  after  lingering  a  moment  in  doubt 

and  v.  -.it.     Silei  Magdalen's 

right*  moved  h<         ur  to  a  place 

whence  Bhe  could  see  1         If  in  th<  ar.      Mary 

closed   her   lips,  and    rath(  'e. 

Not     B  n    them    until   th<         or 

ly.  and  Jack,  with  his  coat  bu1        d  up 
to  his  chin,  made  a  she  ■  •  room.     R 

nizing  Mary,  he  and  frown* 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Jack?*'  she  id,  bowing 
steadily  to  him.     II  lightly,  and  1<      i  -id 

the   room.  ng   M  den,    he   was  amazed.       She 

bowed  too;  and  h  her  a  scared  nod. 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  Mr.  Jack?"  said  the  landlady, 
assuming  the  manner  in  which  she  was  used  to  receive 
company. 

"Have  you  pawned  that  ring  yet?"  he  said,  turning 
suddenly  to  her. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  93 

"No,"  she  retorted,  scandalized. 

"Then  give  it  back  to  me."  She  did  so;  and  he 
looked  at  Magdalen,  saying,  "You  have  come  just  in 
time. ' ' 

"I  came  to  thank  you " 

"You  need  not  thank  me.  I  was  sorry  afterwards 
for  having  helped  a  young  woman  to  run  away  from 
her  father.  If  I  were  not  the  most  hotheaded  fool  in 
England,  I  should  have  storpped  you.  I  hope  no  harm 
came  of  it." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  caused  you  any  uneasiness," 
said  Magdalen,  coloring.  "The  young  woman  drove 
straight  home  after  transacting  some  business  that  she 
wished  to  conceal  from  her  father.     That  was  all." 

"So  much  the  better.  If  I  had  known  you  were  at 
home,  I  should  have  sent  you  your  ring. ' ' 

"My  father  expected  you  to  write." 

"I  told  him  I  would;  but  I  thought  better  of  it.  I 
had  nothing  to  tell  him." 

"You  must  allow  me  to  repay  you  the  sum  you  so 
kindly  lent  me  that  day,  Mr.  Jack,"  said  Magdalen  in 
a  lower  voice,  confusing  herself  by  an  unskilled  effort 
to  express  gratitude  by  her  tone  and  manner. 

' '  It  will  be  welcome, ' '  he  replied  moodily.  Magdalen 
slowly  took  out  a  new  purse.  "Give  it  to  Mrs.  Simp- 
son," he  added,  turning  away.  The  movement 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  Mary,  before  whom  his 
brow  gathered  portentiously.  She  bore  his  gaze 
steadily,  but  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 

"I  have  some  further  business,  Mr.  Jack,"  said 
Magdalen. 

"I  beg  your  pardon, "  said  he,  turning  again  towards 
her. 


94  Love  Among  the  Artists 


" Mrs.  Simpson  told  me- 


1 1 


All!"    said    he,    interrupting    her,    and    casting    a 
threatening  it  the  landlady.      "It  was  she  who 

told  you  where  I  was  fc  ::id,  was  it?" 

"Well,    I    don't    see    the    harm    if  I   did,"  said  Mrs. 

•n.     "If  you   1'  ■  as  a   liberty  on   my  part 

t<>  nmend  y<>u,  Mr.  Jaek,  [  can  easily  Stop  it." 

"K  linend     n.  What     d  she     mean,     Miss 

Brail  I  >rd? — you  Miss  Brails!         are  you  not?" 

"Yes,  I  was  about  to  say  that  Mrs.  Simpson  told 
me    that     you  —that     is .      I     should    perhaps 

explain  first  that  I  intend  I        i  on  the  stage 

"What  do  you  want  I  n  the  for?" 

ame  I    SU]  ,  '*  said    Mrs. 

>n  indignantly. 

"I  wish  to  make   it   my   profession,"  said  Magdal« 

"Do  you  mean  m  our  living  by  it?" 

"I  h< 

"Humph!" 

"Do  you  think  1  should  have  any  chance  of 
su  }" 

"I  Bup]  .  if  you  have  intelligence  and  persever- 
ance, and  can  dm  ind  1  tmpliant,  and  make 
stepping  stone  your  friends — but  ther  '  I  know 
nothing  about  succes  What  have  I  got  to  do  with 
it?  Do  you  think,  as  youi  father  did,  that  I  am  a 
theatrical  agent 

"Well  I  must  say,  Mr.  Jack,"  exclaimed  the  land- 
lady, "that  those  who  try  to  befriend  you  get  very 
little  encouragement.  I  am  right  sorry,  so  I  am,  that 
I  brought  Miss  Madge  to  ask  you  for  :is.  " 

"Lessons!"  said  Jack.  "Oh!  I  did  not  understand. 
Lessons  in  what?     Music?" 


it 


Love  Among  the  Artists  95 

"No,"  said  Magdalen.  "I  wanted  lessons  in  elocu- 
tion and  so  forth.  At  least,  I  was  told  the  other  day 
that  I  did  not  know  how  to  speak." 

"Neither  do  you.  That  is  true  enough,"  said  Jack 
thoughtfully.  "Well,  I  don't  profess  to  prepare 
people  for  the  stage ;  but  I  can  teach  you  to  speak,  if 
you  have  anything  to  say  or  any  feeling  for  what 
better  people  put  into  your  mouth." 

You  are  not  very  sanguine  as  to  the  result,  I  fear." 
;The  result,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  certain,  if  you 
practice.  If  not,  I  shall  give  you  up.  After  all,  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  do  something  better 
than  be  a  fine  lady.  Your  appearance  is  good:  all  the 
rest  can  be  acquired — except  a  genius  for  tomfoolery, 
which  you  must  take  your  chance  of.  The  public 
want  actresses,  because  they  think  all  actresses  bad. 
They  don't  want  music  or  poetry  because  they  know 
that  both  are  good.  So  actors  and  actresses  thrive, 
as  I  hope  you  will ;  and  poets  and  composers  starve, 
as  I  do.     When  do  you  wish  to  begin?" 

It  was  soon  arranged  that  Magdalen  should  take 
lessons  in  Mrs.  Simpson's  sitting  room,  and  in  her 
presence,  every  second  we^k-day,  and  that  she  should 
pay  Mr.  Jack  for  them  at  the  rate  of  three  guineas  a 
dozen.  The  first  was  to  take  place  on  the  next  day 
but  one.  Then  the  two  ladies  rose  to  go.  But  Mag- 
dalen first  drew  Mrs.  Simpson  aside  to  pay  her  the 
money  which  Jack  had  lent  her;  so  that  he  was  left 
near  the  door  with  Mary,  who  had  only  spoken  once 
since  he  entered  the  room. 

"Mr.  Jack,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone:  "I  fear  I 
have  intruded  on  you.  But  I  assure  you  I  did  not 
know  who  it  was  that  we  were  coming  to  see. " 


96  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Else  you  would  not  have  come." 

"Only     because     I     should     have     expected    to    be 

unwelcome.' ' 

"It  docs  not  matt  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  though 
I  have  no  reason   t  How  is  Mr.  Adrian?" 

"Mr.    I!  rt " 

"I  beg  his         Ion,  Mr.  Herbert,  of  conn 

"II'-  lite  well,  thank  you." 

jack  rn    bed  hands    stealthily,   and  looked    at 

Mary  as  though   the  recoll(  LOf  A 'Irian  tickled   his 

Sense  "f  humor.      A  coldly  at  him, 

he   said,  with   a   shade  of  pity   in   1.  ue,  "Ah,   Miss 

Sutherland,  it   is  id  of  music: 

it  is  quite  another  t  ible  to  compose. " 

"  Is  it?"  Baid  Mary,  ;  1. 

IT  his  l.  "Yon  don't  see  the  relevance 

of  that,"  said  he.      "Well,   :•  \  er  mind.  " 

.e   lO'  him   u:  and   hesitated.      Then 

she  said  b1  >wly,  "Mr.  Ja  at  Win  dsor, 

friends  of  mine  ■      u.     I  think, 

if   you  could  come  down   once   a   week,  I    could   ^ret  a 
music  cl  f(>r  y<  >u.  " 

"Xo  doubt,"  he  -ail,  his  an;srry  lo  ':  returning. 
"They  will  take  lessons  because  you  ask  them  to  be 
charitable  to  your  discarded  tutor.  Why  did  you 
discard  him  if  you  think  him  fit  to  teach  your  friends?" 

' '  X-  >t  at  all.  The  project  was  mentioned  last  season, 
before  I  knew  you.  It  is  simply  that  we  wish  to  take 
lessons.      If  you  do  not  ;j;et  the  cla  mebody 

will.      It  is  very  difficult  to  avoid  offending  you,  Mr. 
Jack." 

"Indeed!  Why  does  the  world  torment  me,  if  it 
expects  to  find  me  gracious  to  it?     And  who  are   the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  97 

worthy  people  that  are  burning  to  soar  in  the  realms 
of  song?" 

"Well,  to  begin  with.     I  should  1 " 

"You!  I  would  not  give  you  lessons  though  your 
life  depended  on  it.  No,  by  Heaven!  At  least,"  he 
continued,  more  placably,  as  she  recoiled,  evidently 
hurt,  "you  shall  have  no  lessons  from  me  for  money. 
I  will  teach  you,  if  you  wish  to  learn;  but  you  shall 
not  try  to  make  amends  for  your  old  caprice  of  beggar- 
ing me,  by  a  new  caprice  to  patronize  me." 

"Then  of  course  I  cannot  take  any  lessons." 

"I  thought  not.      You  will  confer  favors  on  your 
poor  music  maker;  but  you  will  not  stoop  to  accept 
them  from  him.     Your  humble  dog,  Miss  Sutherland.' 
He  made  her  a  bow. 

"You  quite  mistake  me,"  said  Mary,  unable  to  con- 
trol her  vexation.     "Will  you  take  the  class  or  not?" 

"Where  will  the  class  be?" 

"I  could  arrange  to  have  it  at  our  house  if " 

"Never.  I  have  crossed  its  threshold  for  the  last 
time.  So  long  as  it  is  not  there,  I  do  not  care  where  it 
is.  Not  less  than  one  journey  a  week,  and  not  less 
than  a  guinea  clear  profit  for  each  journey.  Those 
are  my  lowest  terms:  I  will  take  as  much  more  as  I 
can  get,  .but  nothing  less.  Perhaps  you  are  thinking 
better  of  getting  the  class  for  me." 

"I  never  break  my  word,  Mr.  Jack." 

"Ha!  Don't  you!  I  do.  A  fortnight  ago  I  swore 
never  to  speak  to  you  again.  The  same  day  I  swore 
never  to  part  with  your  friend's  ring  except  to  herself. 
Well,  here  I  am  speaking  to  you  for  no  better  reason 
than  that  you  met  me  and  offered  to  put  some  money 
in  my  way.     And  you  stopped  me  in  the  act  of  pawn- 


98  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 

ing-  her  ring,  which  I  was  going  to  do  because  I 
thought  I  would  rather  have  a  1  teak.  But  y<>u 
are  adamant.  Ybu  never  change  your  mind.  You 
have  a  soul  above  fate  and  ne^        ty!     Ha!  ha!" 

"M  ■..  dalen,"  said  Mary,  turning  to  her  friend,  who 
had  waiting  for  the  end  of  th  ation:  "I 

think   we   had  "      Mary   was    crimson    with 

Buppi  entment;  and  Magdalen,  not  displeased 

to  it,  advanced   to   bid   Jack  well   in  her  most 

attractive      mann<  He      imn  tely     put     off     his 

bantering  air,  and  ceremoniously  accompanied  them 
downstairs   to  the   door,    where    M  ;,    going   out 

first,   gave  him   her  h  Mary   hesitated;    and   lie 

wrinkled  his  br<  •  he  1  I  at  h   r 

"I  will  tell  Miss  Cairns  to  write  to  you  about  the 
class,"  sh<-  said.      lie  '  led  to  her  with  an  attention 

which  she  th  Flushing  with       pleasure, 

si.  '.  ''And  as  M       C  tirns  has        le  aothing  to 

incur    your    anger,     I  Mr.    J  that    you    will 

remember   that   she    is   a   1.:  :y,    and    will  ect   to   be 

d  with  common  civil  it] 

"<  >ho!'  ■•  Have    I    been  rude? 

Have  I?" 

"You  have  been  excessively  rude,  Mr.  Jack." 
She  went  out  quickly,  sending  the  words  with  an 
an.  lance  over  her   shoulder.      lie    shut   the  door, 

and  went  upstairs  to  Mrs.  Simpson's  room,  braying 
like  a  donkey. 

"Well,  Jezebel,"  he  cried.  "Well,  Polly.  Well, 
Mrs.  Quickly.     How  are  you?" 

"I  never  was  so  ashamed  in  my  life,  Mr.  Jack. 
There  were  those  young  ladies  only  too  anxious  to  do 
what   they  could   for  you,   and  you  like  a  bear.     No 


Love  Among  the  Artists  99 

wonder  you  can't  get  on,  when  you  won't  control  your- 
self and  have  behavior." 

"I  am  a  bear,  am  I?  You  had  better  recollect  that 
I  am  a  hungry  bear,  and  that  if  my  dinner  does  not 
come  up,  you  will  get  a  hug  that  will  break  every 
bone  in  your  stays.  Don't  forget  the  music  paper. 
You  have  plenty  of  money  now.  Four  pounds  four 
and  a  penny,  eh?" 

"You've  no  call  to  fear:  none  of  it  will  be  stolen. 
Miss  Madge  thought  you  hadn't  counted  it.  Little 
did  she  know  you. ' ' 

"She  knew  me  better  than  you,  you  sordid  hag.  I 
counted  my  money  that  morning — four  pounds  nine 
and  sevenpence.  I  gave  the  railway  clerk  ten  shil- 
lings; he  gave  me  five  back — that  left  four  pounds 
four  and  sevenpence.  I  arrived  here  with  sixpence 
in  my  pocket ;  and  from  that  I  knew  that  I  gave  her 
four,  four,  and  a  penny.  That  reminds  me  that  you 
sat  there  and  let  Miss  Sutherland  go  away  without 
making  me  ask  her  to  send  on  my  portmanteau,  now 
that  I  have  money  to  pay  the  carriage.  You're  very 
stupid." 

"How  could  I  tell  whether  you  wanted  me  to 
mention  it  or  not?  I  was  thinking  of  it  all  the  time ; 
but ' ' 

"You  were  thinking  of  it  all  the  time!"  cried  Jack, 
in  a  frenzy.  "And  you  never  mentioned  it!  Here 
go  for  my  dinner.  You  would  drive  the  most  patient 
man  living  out  of  his  senses." 


CHAPTER   VI 

When  Mrs  □  a  fortnight  in  the  Isle 

of  Wight  with  imiry,  her  husband  came 

down         .  Windsor  to  sec  li         <  >n  the  morning  after 

his    arrival,    they    w  r    in    th<  .rdcn,     I 

smoking,  and  she  Icing  chair  near  him,  with  a 

newspaper  in 

"My         . "  fa  ra  preliminary        .;h. 

"Yes,  Ri<  ly,  putting  down  the 

paper. 

"I  v,        tying  last  night  that  CI  avingus." 

"(  >h,  the  bandma  Yea  "     Mr  ttywas  not 

ini  Q. 

.ing  tome         :t  it  this  morning. " 

Mrs.    B  n    the  r   decisively,    and 

ttd. 

"She  v.  me  t  that  fellow — Charlie's  tutor — 

into   <  I    don't   know   whether  he  is  fit 

for  it?" 

"You  don't  know  whether  he   is  fit  for  it!     Pray, 
Richard,  did   ;  y  to  think  that  we  will 

countenance  any  further  transactions  between  her  and 
that  man. " 

"I  thought  I  would  speak  to  you  about  it." 

"She  ought  to  named  of  herself.     Don't  listen 

to  her  on  any  account,  Richard." 

"Well,  will  you  speak  to  her?     It  is  not  exactly  a 
subject  that  I  can  take  her  to  task  about ;  and  I  really 

ioo 


it' 

t  i 

4  ( 


Love  Among  the  Artists  ioi 

don't  exactly  know  what  to  say,  to.  her  .when  she 
comes  at  me.  She  always  argues;  and  I  hate 
argument. ' ' 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  face  her  arguments — I  will 
make  short  work  of  them  too.  Whenever  there  is 
anything  pleasant  to  be  said  in  the  family,  you  are 
willing  enough  to  take  it  out  of  my  mouth.  The 
unpleasant  things  are  left  to  me.  Then  people  say, 
4  Poor  Colonel  Beatty:  he  has  such  a  disagreeable 
wife.'  " 

Who  says  so?" 

It  is  not  your  fault  if  they  do  not  say  so. ' ' 
If  the  fellow  comes  into  the  regiment,  he  will  soon 
be  taught  how  to  behave  himself.  Though  for  all  I 
have  seen  to  the  contrary,  he  can  behave  himself  well 
enough.  That  is  my  difficulty  in  talking  to  Mary.  If 
she  has  no  fault  to  find  with  him,  I  am  sure  I  have 
none." 

"You  are  going  to  take  his  part  against  me,  Colonel 
Beatty.  It  does  not  matter  that  he  repeatedly  insulted 
me — everybody  does  that.  But  I  thought  you  might 
have  had  some  little  fault  to  find  with  a  person  who 
debauched  your  men  and  held  drunken  orgies  in  my 
brother's  house." 

"Well,  Jane,  if  you  come  to  that,  you  know  very 
well  that  Charles  was  an  incorrigible  scamp  long 
enough  before  Jack  ever  met  him.  As  to  bringing 
him  to  play  at  Beulah,  Charles  got  five  shillings  for 
his  trouble,  and  went  as  he  might  have  gone  to  one  of 
your  dances.  He  spoke  to  me  of  Jack  as  a  gentleman 
who  had  employed  him,  not  as  a  comrade." 

"To  you,  no  doubt  he  did.  Adrian  Herbert  heard 
how  he  spoke  to  Jack. " 


io2  Love  Among  the  Artists 

M Besides,  M;iry  expressly  says  that  she  does  not 
complain  of  that  at  all." 

"And  what  docs  she  complain  of?" 

donel    Beatty  considered   for  a   moment,  and   then 

answered,  "She  does  not   complain  of   anything,  i 

far  as  I  can  make  out." 

"Inc  She   dismissed   him.      Y"U   will   at    le 

not  deny  thai.  " 

"My        r,  I  am  not  denying  anyth " 

"Then    let    nothing     induce    yon    to    bring    them 

in.      You  ought  to  understand  that  much 
without  any  hint   from   me,  knowi:  yon   do,  what 

a  strange  girl  she  is. " 

'Why?     Do   you    think   there   is   anything   between 

them?" 

"I  never  said  I  know  very  well   what  I  think." 

olonel   Beatty  smoked  a  while  in   silent  ■       Then, 

Mary  m  the  house,  carrying  a  box  of 

lors,  he  bu.sied  himself  with  his  pipe,  and  strolled 
away. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Mary. 

"Nothing   that    I    am    aware   of,"  said    Mrs.    Beatty. 

Why?" 

Von  do  not  look  happy.  And  Uncle  Richard's 
shoulders  have  a  resigned  set,  as  if  he  had  been  blown 
up  lately." 

"I  la!  Oh!  You  are  a  wonderful  observer,  Mary. 
Are  you  going  out?" 

"I  am  waiting  for  Adrian." 

Mary  went  round  the  garden  in  search  of  a  flower. 
She  was  adorning  her  bosom  with  one,  when  Mrs. 
Beatty,  who  had  been  pretending  to  read,  could  con- 
tain herself  no  longer,  and  exclaimed: 


1 1 


Love  Among  the  Artists  103 

"Now,  Mary,  it  is  of  no  use  your  asking  Richard  to 
get  that  man  as  bandmaster.     He  shall  not  do  it." 

"So  that  is  what  was  the  matter,"  said  Mary  coolly. 

"I  mean  what  I  say,  Mary.  He  shall  never  show 
his  face  in  Windsor  again  with  my  consent. ' ' 

"He  shows  his  face  there  once  a  week  already, 
aunt.  Miss  Cairns  writes  to  say  that  he  has  a  singing 
class  at  their  house,  and  three  pianoforte  pupils  in 
the  neighborhood." 

"If  I  had  known  that,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty,  angrily,  "I 
should  not  have  left  Windsor.  It  is  of  a  piece  with  the 
rest  of  his  conduct.  However,  no  matter.  We  shall 
see  how  long  he  will  keep  his  pupils  after  I  go  back." 

"Why,  aunt?  Would  you  take  away  his  livelihood 
because  you  do  not  happen  to  like  him  personally?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  livelihood.  I  do  not 
consider  it  proper  for  him  to  be  at  Windsor,  after 
being  dismissed  by  Richard.  There  are  plenty  of 
other  places  for  him  to  go  to.  I  have  quite  made  up 
my  mind  on  the  subject.  If  you  attempt  to  dispute 
me,  I  shall  be  offended." 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  too.  Whatever  mischief 
you  may  do  to  Mr.  Jack  at  Windsor  will  be  imputed  to 
me,  aunt." 

"I  never  said  that  I  would  do  him  any  mischief.' 

"You  said  you  would  drive  him  out  of  Windsor. 
As  he  lives  by  his  teaching,  I  think  that  would  be  as 
great  a  mischief  as  it  is  in  your  power  to  do  him. " 

"Well,  I  cannot  help  it.     It  is  your  fault." 

"If  I  have  helped  to  get  him  the  pupils,  and  am 
begging  you  not  to  interfere  with  him,  how  is  it  my 
fault?" 

"Ah!     I  thought  you  had  something  to  do  with  it. 


104  Love  Among  the  Artists 

And  now  let  me  tell  you,   Mary,  that  it  is  perfectly 

disgraceful,    the    open    way     in     which  m    hanker 

after " 

"Aunt!" 

44 that  common  man.     I  wonder  at  B  girl  of  your 

ind  und<  \  having  so  little  self-respect 

tO    1«  t     e\  Bee     that    yotir     h<    .        lias    been 

turned  by  a  creatui  ish  or  appearance — 

not  even  a  nan.      And  all  this  too  while  you  are 

rian  II>  rl  ert,  fa  site  in  every 

ct     I  tell  you,   Mary,   it's  not  proper:    it's  not 

decent.     A  tutor!     If  it  were  anybody  else  it  would 

not   matter  so   mueh ;  but Oh   for  shame,  Mary, 

for  shame 

"Aunt  Jane " 

11  Hush,  for  :c.      Here  he  is." 

"Who?"  cried    Mary,  turning  quickly.     But  it  v 
only  Adrian,  equi  r  sketching. 

"<  h-        I  gaily,  but  with  a  thought- 

ful, polite  ty.      "'i  is  the  very  sky  we  want  for 

that  bit  of  the  un  "         iff." 

"We  were  just  saying  how  late  you  were,"  said 
Mrs.  Beatty  graciously.  He  shook  her  hand,  and 
looked   in  some  surprise  at   Mary,    whose  expression, 

she  stood  motionless,  puzzled  him. 

"Do  you  know  what  we  were  really  saying  when 
you  interrupted  us,  Adrian?" 

"Mary,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Beatty. 

"Aunt  Jane  was  telling  me,"  continued  Mary,  not 
heeding  her,  "that  I  was  hankering  after  Mr.  Jack, 
and  that  my  conduct  was  not  decent.  Have  you  ever 
remarked  anything  indecent  about  my  conduct, 
Adrian?" 


.Love  Among  the  Artists  105 

Herbert  looked  helplessly  from  her  to  her  aunt  in 
silence.  Mrs.  Beatty's  confusion,  culminating  in  a 
burst  of  tears,  relieved  him  from  answering. 

"Do  not  listen  to  her,"  she  said  presently,  striving 
to  control  herself.     "She  is  an  ungrateful  girl." 

"I  have  quoted  her  exact  words,"  said  Mary, 
unmoved;  "and  I  am  certainly  not  grateful  for  them. 
Come,  Adrian.  We  had  better  lose  no  more  time  if 
we  are  to  finish  our  sketches  before  luncheon?" 

"But  we  cannot  leave  Mrs.  Beatty  in  this " 

"Never  mind  me:  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  for 
giving  way,  Mr.  Herbert.  It  was  not  your  fault.  I 
had  rather  not  detain  you." 

Adrian  hesitated.  But  seeing  that  he  had  better  go, 
he  took  up  his  bundle  of  easels  and  stools,  and  went 
out  with  Mary,  who  did  not  even  look  at  her  aunt. 
They  had  gone  some  distance  before  either  spoke. 
Then  he  said,  "I  hope  Mrs.  Beatty  has  not  been 
worrying  you,  Mary?" 

"If  she  has,  I  do  not  think  she  will  do  it  again  with- 
out serious  reflexion.  I  have  found  that  the  way  to 
deal  with  worldly  people  is  to  frighten  them  by 
repeating  their  scandalous  whisperings  aloud.  Oh,  I 
was  very  angry  that  time,  Adrian." 

"But  what  brought  Jack  on  the  carpet  again?  I 
thought  we  were  rid  of  him  and  done  with  him?" 

"I  heard  that  he  was  very  badly  off  in  London;  and 
I  asked  Colonel  Beatty  to  get  him  made  bandmaster  of 
the  regiment  in  place  of  John  Sebastian  Clifton — the 
man  you  used  to  laugh  at — who  is  going  to  America. 
Then  Aunt  Jane  interfered,  and  imputed  motives  to 
my  intercession — such  motives  as  she  could  appreciate 
herself." 


io6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"But    bow    did    you    find    out    Jack's    position   in 

Loi 
"Prom   Madge   Brailsford,   who    is    taking    lessons 
m  him.     Why?    A         m  jealous?" 

"If  you  really  mean  that  question,  it  will  spoil  my 
day's  work,  or  rather  my  day's  pleasure;  for  my  work 
is  all  pleasure,  DO 

"No,  of  course  I  do  not  mean  it.  I  beg  your 
pardon. " 

"Will  you  make  a  new  contract  with  me,  Mary'" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Never  to  allude  to  that  execrable  musician  again. 
I  have  remarked  that  his  name  alone  suinces  to  breed 
discord  ev  here. " 

"It   is   true,"  said    M  hing.      "I   have   quar- 

relled a  little  with  Madge,  a  great  deal  with  Aunt 
fane,  almost   with  you,  and  quite  with   Charlie  about 

him." 

Then  let  us  consider  him,  from  henceforth,  in  the 
Index  t.\f.  ius.      I    swear  never  to   mention   him 

on  a  Bketching   ex<   irsion — never  at   all,  in  fact,  unle 

.  very  urgent  occasion,  which  is  not  likely  to  arise. 
Will  you  swear  also'" 

"I  swear,"  said  Mary,  raising  her  hand.  "  %Lc 
giuroy'  as  they  say  in  the  Opera.  But  without 
prejudice  to  his  bandmastership.  " 

"As  to  that,  I  am  afraid  you  have  spoiled  his  chance 
with  Colonel  Aunt  Jane?" 

"Yes, "  said  Mary  slowly:  "I  forgot  that.  I  was 
thinking-  only  of  my  own  outraged  feelings  when  I 
took  my  revenge.  And  I  had  intended  to  coax  her 
into  seconding  me  in  the  matter." 

Herbert  laughed. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  107 


i  < 


(i 


It  is  not  at  all  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  Adrian, 
when  you  come  to  think  of  it.  I  used  to  fancy  that  I 
had  set  myself  aside  from  the  ordinary  world  to  live 
a  higher  life  than  most  of  those  about  me.  But  I  am 
beginning  to  find  out  that  when  I  have  to  act,  I  do 
very  much  as  they  do.  As  I  suppose  they  judge  me 
by  my  actions  and  not  by  my  inner  life,  no  doubt  they 
see  me  much  as  I  see  them.  Perhaps  they  have  an 
inner  life  too.  If  so,  the  only  difference  between  us  is 
that  I  have  trained  my  eye  to  see  more  material  for 
pictures  in  a  landscape  than  they.  They  may  even 
enjoy  the  landscape  as  much,  without  knowing  why." 
Do  you  know  why?" 

I  suppose  not.  I  mean  that  I  can  point  out  those 
aspects  of  the  landscape  which  please  me,  and  they 
cannot.  But  that  is  not  a  moral  difference.  Art 
cannot  take  us  out  of  the  world." 

"Not  if  we  are  worldly,  Mary." 

"But  how  can  we  help  being  worldly?  I  was  born 
into  the  world :  I  have  lived  all  my  life  in  it :  I  have 
never  seen  or  known  a  person  or  thing  that  did  not 
belong  to  it.  How  can  I  be  anything  else  than 
wordly?" 

"Does  the  sun  above  us  belong  to  it,  Mary?  Do  the 
stars,  the  dreams  that  poets  have  left  us,  the  realms 
that  painters  have  shewn  us,  the  thoughts  you  and  I 
interchange  sometimes  when  nothing  has  occurred  to 
disturb  your  faith?     Do  these  things  belong  to  it?" 

"I  don't  believe  they  belong  exclusively  to  us  two. 
If  they  did,  I  think  we  should  be  locked  up  as  lunatics 
for  perceiving  them.  Do  you  know,  Adrian,  lots  of 
people  whom  we  consider  quite  foreign  to  us 
spiritually,    are   very    romantic    in    their    own    way. 


io8  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Aunt  Jane  cries  over  novels  which  make  me  laugh. 
Your  mother  reads  a  good  deal  of  history,  and  she 
likes   pictun  I    remember   when    she    used   to   sing 

very  nicely.  " 

"Yes.  She  likes  pictures,  provided  they  are  not  too 
good." 

"S:  ra  the  same  of  you.      And  really,  when  she 

pats  me  on  the  shoulder  in  her  wise  way,  and  asks  me 
when    I    will    be   tin  t    playing   at    what   she    calls 

tram  entalism,  I  hear,  or  fancy  I   hear,  an  eeho  of 

her   thought   in    my   own    mind.       I    have   been    very 

happy  in  my  and  I  don't  think  I  shall 

ever  find  a  way  of  life  m<  r     tranq       and  pleasant 

than  they  led  nie  to;  but,  for  all  that,  I  have  a  notion 
sometimes    that    it    is   a   way  of   life   which   I   am  out- 

growinj       I  am.       tting  wickeder  as  I  get  older,  very 

likely." 

"You  think  so  for  the  moment  If  you  leave  your 

art,   the   world   will   beat   you   back  to   it.      The  world 

has  n  »t   an   an                     rth   snarl:.  I  a  prize  worth 

handlin   ,     C  irrupt  eful  failures,  or 

sheeplike  vegetation  are  all  it  has  to  oiler.  I  prefer 
Art,    which  -  9    me    a   sixtli   sen  t   beauty,    with 

pect:  perhaps  also  an  immortal  reputation  in 
return  for  honest  endeavor  in  a  la      r  of  love." 

"Yes,  Adrian.  That  used  to  suffice  for  me:  indeed, 
it  does  so  still  when  I  am  in  the  right  frame  of  mind. 
But  other  worlds  are  appearing-  vaguely  on  the 
horizon.  Perhaps  woman's  art  is  of  woman's  life  a 
thing  apart,  'tis  man's  whole  existence;  just  as  love  is 
said  to  be  the  reverse — though  it  isn't." 

"It  does  not  scan  that  way,"  said  Adrian,  with  an 
uneasy  effort  to  be  flippant. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  109 


No,"  said  Mary,  laughing.     "This  is  the  place." 
'Yes,"  said  Adrian,  unstrapping  the  easels.     "You 
must  paint  off  the  fit  of  depression  that  is  seizing  you. 
The  wind  has  gone  round  to  the  south-west.     What 
an  exquisite  day!" 

"It  is  a  little  oppressive,  I  think.  I  am  just  in  the 
humor  for  a  sharp  evening  breeze,  with  the  sea  broken 
up  into  slate  color  waves,  and  the  yachts  ripping  them 
up  in  their  hurry  home.  Thank  you,  I  would  rather 
have  the  stool  that  has  no  back :  I  will  settle  the  rest 
myself.     Adrian:  do  you  think  me  ill-tempered?" 

"What  a  question  to  explode  on  me!     Why?" 

"No  matter  why.     Answer  my  question. " 

"I  think  you  always  control  yourself  admirably." 

"You  mean  when  I  am  angry?" 

"Yes." 

"But,  putting  my  self-control  out  of  the  question, 
do  you  think  I  get  angry  often — too  often,  even 
though  I  do  not  let  my  anger  get  the  better  of  me?" 

"Not  too  often,  certainly." 

"But  often?" 

"Well,  no.  That  is,  not  absolutely  angry.  I  think 
you  are  quick  to  perceive  and  repel  an  attack,  even 
when  it  is  only  thoughtlessly  implied.  But  now  we 
must  drop  introspection  for  the  present,  Mary.  If  our 
sketches  are  to  be  finished  before  luncheon,  I  must 
work  hard ;  and  so  must  you.  No  more  conversation 
until  a  quarter  past  one." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Mary,  taking  her  seat  on  the 
campstool.  They  painted  silently  for  two  hours, 
interrupted  occasionally  by  strollers,  who  stopped  to 
look  on,  much  to  Herbert's  annoyance,  and  somewhat 
to  Mary's    gratification.     Meanwhile    the    day    grew 


i  io  Love  Among  the  Artists 


*-> 


warmer  and  warmer;  and  the  birds  and  insects  sang 
and  shrilled  incessantly. 

"Finished,"  said  Mary  at  last,  putting  down  her 
palett        "And     not    in     the     least     like     nature.       I 

Qtnred  a  little  Prussian  blue  in  that  corner  of  the 
sky,  with  disastrous  results." 

"I  will  look  presently,"  said  Herbert,  without  turn- 
ing from  his  canvas,  "It  will  take  at  least  another 
day  to  finish  mine.  " 

"You  '   "   conscientious,    Adrian.       I    feel    sure 

your  sketches  have  too  much  work  in  them." 

"I  have  seen  many  pictures  without  enough  work 
in  them:   never  with  t<>"  much.      I  BU]         e  I  must 

;>  now  for  th  it.      It  is  time  to  return." 

"Vis,'  id  Mary,  packing  her  sketching  furniture. 
"<  tar!      As  Faulconbridge  says,  'Now,  by  my  life, 

the  tlay -rows   wondrous   hot.'  abridge,  by  the 

bye,  aid  have  thought  us  a  pair  of  fools.  Never- 
theless I  like  him. " 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  Most  women  like  men  who 
are  a-  uit  bulbes.      Let  me  .ketch." 

"It  is  not  a  masterpi  yon  may  perceive." 

"No.      V'Hi  are   impatient,  M  iw  with    a 

stifT,  heavy  hand.  Look  before  you  into  the  haze. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  outline  in  the  landscape." 

"I  cannot  help  it.  I  try  to  soften  everything  as 
much  as  possible;  but  it  only  makes  the  colors  look 
sodden.  It  is  all  nonsense  my  trying  to  paint.  I  shall 
.    ve  it  up.  " 

Must   I   pay    you   compliments  to  keep    up    your 
cour.  Von   are    unusually   diffident   to-day.       You 

have  done  the  cottage  and  the  potato  field  better 
than  I." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  1 1 1 

"Very  likely.  My  touch  suits  potato  fields.  I  think 
I  had  better  make  a  specialty  of  them.  Since  I  can 
paint  neither  sky  nor  sea  nor  golden  grain,  I  shall 
devote  myself  to  potato  fields  in  wet  weather." 

Herbert,  glancing  up  at  her  as  he  stooped  to 
shoulder  his  easel,  did  not  answer.  A  little  later, 
when  they  were  on  their  way  home,  he  said,  "Are  you 
conscious  of  any  change  in  yourself  since  you  came 
down  here,  Mary?" 

"No.  What  kind  of  change?"  She  had  been 
striding  along  beside  him,  looking  boldly  ahead  in  her 
usual  alert  manner;  but  now  she  slackened  her  pace, 
and  turned  her  eyes  uneasily  downward. 

"I  have  noticed  a  certain  falling  off  in  the  steady 
seriousness  that  used  to  be  your  chief  characteristic. 
You  are  becoming  a  little  inconsiderate  and  even 
frivolous  about  things  that  you  formerly  treated  with 
unvarying  sympathy  and  reverence.  This  makes  me 
anxious.  Our  engagement  is  likely  to  be  such  a  long 
one,  that  the  least  change  in  you  alarms  me.  Mary: 
is  it  that  you  are  getting  tired  of  Art,  or  only  of  me?" 

"Oh,  absurd!  nonsense,  Adrian!" 

"There  is  nothing  of  your  old  seriousness  in  that 
answer,  Mary." 

"  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  as  a  reproach  that  you 
put  to  me.  You  should  have  more  confidence  in 
yourself;  and  then  you  would  not  fear  my  getting 
tired  of  you.  As  to  Art,  I  am  not  exactly  getting 
tired  of  it ;  but  I  find  that  I  cannot  live  on  Art  alone ; 
and  I  am  beginning  to  doubt  whether  I  might  not 
spend  my  time  better  than  in  painting,  at  which  I  am 
sure  I  shall  never  do  much  good.  If  Art  were  a  game 
of  pure  skill,  I  should  persevere ;  but  it  is  like  whist, 


[12  Love  Anions  the  Artists 


.-> 


chance  and  skill  mix<  Nature  may  have  given  you 

her  ace  of  trumps — genius;  but  she  lias  not  given  me 
any  trumps  at  all — nut  even  court  i 

"If   we   all   threw   up  our  cards  merely  because   we 

had   not  the   ace  of   trumps   in   our  hand,   I  fear  there 

aid   be   no   more   whist   ]  I   in  the  w  But, 

to   drop    y    UT    metaphor,    which    I   do   not    like,  I  can 

i    that  Nature  has  been  kinder  to  you  than  I 
m<  .     I  had  t  and  1  than  you  have 

rk<  d  '  e  I  could  paint  as  well  as  you  can." 

"That  •  kept  up  my  >r  for 

a  long  time,  Adrian;   but   it  xhausted  now. 

In  future    I  may  :i   to   amuse   myself  a:.  keep 

memenl  with    which    I    have  pleasant 

associations,  but  not  I  :e  my  tast<        id  perfect 

my   morals.      Perhaps   it    is   that   change   of   intention 

which  makes  me  frivolous,  /  I  have  suddenly 

be©  rate." 

"And   since   when,'  ill-  .    "have 

a  medit  ry  in:;  ,:it  change?" 

"I    never    medit  1.      It   came     upon    me 

unawan  I    did    not   even    know    what    it    was    until 

your   question  me    I         ive   an   account   of    it. 

What  an  infidel   lam!      lint   tell   me  this,  Adrian.      If 

u  suddenly  found  yourself  a  Turner,  Titian,  Michael 

A  .   and    Holbein   all  rolled  into  one,  would  you 

be  a  bit  happier 

"I  cannot  conceive  howr  you  can  doubt  i. 
"I  know  you  would  paint  better"  (Herbert  winced), 
"but  it  is  not  at  all  obvious  to  me  that  you  would  be 
happier.  However,  lam  in  a  silly  humor  to-day;  for 
I  can  see  nothing  in  a  proper  way.  We  had  better 
talk  about  something  eLe. " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  113 


« (1 


;The  humor  has  lasted  for  some  days,  already, 
Mary.  And  it  must  be  talked  about,  and  seriously 
too,  if  you  have  concluded,  like  my  mother,  that  I  am 
wasting  my  life  in  pursuit  of  a  chimera.  Has  she 
been  speaking  to  you  about  me?" 

"Oh,  Adrian,  you  are  accusing  me  of  treachery. 
You  must  not  think,  because  I  have  lost  faith  in  my 
own  artistic  destiny,  that  I  have  lost  faith  in  yours 
also." 

"I  fear,  if  you  have  lost  your  respect  for  Art,  you 
have  lost  your  respect  for  me.  If  so,  you  know  that 
you  may  consider  yourself  free  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. You  must  not  hold  yourself  in  bondage  to  a 
dreamer,  as  people  consider  me." 

"I  do  not  exactly  understand.  Are  you  offering  me 
my  liberty,  or  claiming  your  own?" 

"I  am  offering  you  yours.  I  think  you  might  have 
guessed  that." 

"I  don't  think  I  might.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  be 
invited  to  consider  oneself  free.  If  you  really  wish  it, 
I  shall  consider  myself  so. ' ' 

The  question  is,  do  you  wish  it?" 
Excuse  me,  Adrian:  the  question  is,  do  you  wish 
it?" 

My  feelings  towards  you  are  quite  unchanged." 
And  so  are  mine  towards  you." 

After  this  they  walked  for  a  little  time  in  silence. 
Then  Mary  said,  "Adrian:  do  you  remember  our 
congratulating  ourselves  last  June  on  our  immunity 
from  the  lovers'  quarrels  which  occur  in  the  vulgar 
world?  I  think — perhaps  it  is  due  to  my  sudden 
secession  from  the  worship  of  Art — I  think  we  made 
a  sort  of  first  attempt  at  one  that  time." 


i  i  \  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Ha!    ha!      Y>         But    we    failed,    did    we    not, 
Mary?" 

"Thanks  to  our  inexperienc  lid.     But  not  v< 

disgracefully.  We  shall  buo  better  the  next  time, 
most  likely." 

"Then  I  I  the  next  time  will  never  come. " 

"I  b  •         Here  th(  I  the  garden  ^rate. 

"You  must  come   in   and   lunch  with  us,  to  save  me 

from  facing  Aunt  Jane  my  revenge  upon 

her  this  morning. " 

Then  they  went  in  together,  and  found  that  M 
Herbert  '  with  the  Colonel 

and  Mrs.  Beatty. 

"'Are  we  [at 

Mrs.   Beatty  cl<  -id  did  not  reply.      The 

Colonel    i.  ••   that    they   had  only   just  sat 

vn.      Mrs.  Herbert  pr                 joined   in  the  conver- 

Beatty'a 

becoming 

unpleasantly  until  Mai       put    <>n    her  eye- 

gll  •  aunt  in  h  irching 

•c  wa] 

Aunt    Jane:   will    you    come   with   me   to   the    two- 
forty  train  to  meet  papa?" 

Mrs.  Beatty  maintained  her  silence  i  -eon 

Then  she  reddened,  and  said  sulkily,  "No,  Mary,  I 
1  not.      You  can  do  without  me  very  well." 

"Adrian:   will  you  come 

"Unfortunately,"  said    Mrs.    II<  :.     "Adrian     is 

bound  to  me  for  the  afternoon.  We  are  goin^  to 
Portsmouth  to  pay  a  visit.  It  is  time  for  us  to  go 
now,"  she  added,  looking  at  her  watch  and  risii. 

During-  the    leave   taking  which  followed,   Colonel 


Love  Among  the  Artists  115 

Beatty  got  his  hat,  judging-  that  he  had  better  go  out 
with  the  Herberts  than  stay  between  his  wife  and 
Mary  in  their  present  tempers.  But  Mrs.  Beatty  did 
not  care  to  face  her  niece  alone.  When  the  guests 
were  gone,  she  moved  towards  the  door. 

"Aunt,"  said  Mary,  "don't  go  yet.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you. ' ' 

Mrs.  Beatty  did  not  turn. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mary.  "But  remember,  aunt,  if 
there  is  to  be  a  quarrel,  it  will  not  be  of  my  making." 

Mrs.  Beatty  hesitated,  and  said,  "As  soon  as  you 
express  your  sorrow  for  your  conduct  this  morning,  I 
will  speak  to  you." 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  what  passed."  Mary  looked  at 
her  aunt  as  she  spoke,  not  contritely.  Mrs.  Beatty, 
dissatisfied,  held  the  door  handle  for  a  moment  longer, 
then  slowly  came  back  and  sat  down.  "I  am  sure 
you  ought  to  be, ' '  she  said. 

I  am  sure  you  ought  to  be,"  said  Mary. 
What!"  cried  Mrs.  Beatty,  about  to  rise  again. 
'You  should  have  taken  what  I  said  as  an  apology, 
and  let  well  alone,"  said  Mary.  "I  am  sorry  that  I 
resented  your  accusation  this  morning  in  a  way  that 
might  have  made  mischief  between  me  and  Adrian. 
But  you  had  no  right  to  say  what  you  did ;  and  I  had 
every  right  to  be  angry  with  you." 

1 '  You  have  a  right  to  be  angry  with  me!  Do  you 
know  who  I  am,  Miss?" 

"Aunt,  if  you  are  going  to  call  me  'Miss,' we  had 
better  stop  talking  altogether." 

Mrs.  Beatty  saw  extreme  vexation  in  her  niece's 
expression,  and  even  a  tear  in  her  eye.  She  resolved 
to   assert    her    authority.      "Mary,"    she    said:    "do 


<  i 


* «° 


ii')  Love  Among  the  Artists 

you  wish  to  prov  into   Bending   you    to  your 

room 

M    :  "Aunt   Jane,"    she   said,  "if   you   don't 

ch<         to  treat  me  with  due  respect,  as  yon  hav 
tr<        ther  women,  we  must  li  rt.     It  y.         onot 

understand  my  feel:  I  '.cast  you  know  m  l  and 

Thi  >U  have  insulted 

me    t<  ."  ie    went    to   thi  >r,    1"  ;'    indig- 

nant! ;nt    as    &h<  d.        The    look    v. 

h  Mrs.  Beatty  wei 
Ing    to  i  in.      M.  \   thi      restrain    I 

with  •  •  threshold; 

stood   still    for   a  momi  1   then  came  back  to  the 
•     'le. 

"I   am   a  fo<,l    to   lose   my*.           -r   with           .  aunt," 

sir  air   with   an  air 

of  resolnl  humor,  whi                                     than 

her   anger;  "hut 

Now,  don't  m                                                    i   me:   it   makes 

me  feel   li  I;   and  I  am  sure  it  makes  you 

1  like  .i  cook.'      Mrs.  Beatty  colored.     In  tern] 

and     figur          :e     was  tuffici              like     the    cook 

ricatnre  to  mal  reeable  to  her. 

"I    alway              ridi<  -    and   remorseful              a 

quarrel,"  continued  M  rhether  I  am  in  the  right 

or  not — if  there  be  any  right  in  a  quarrel.  " 

"YOU    are   a   vcr;.  inge   girl,"  said    Mr  ty, 

rueful  "When    I   was   your  age,  I    would  not  have 

dared  to  speak  to  my  elders  as  you  .ie." 

"When   you   were   young,"   responded    Mary,    "the 
world  was  in  a  state  of  bai  and  young  people 

used  to  the  old  people,  just  as  you  fancy  the  old 

spoil    the  young  nowadays.      Besides,  you  are  not  so 


Love  Among  the  Artists  117 

very    much    my   elder,    after   all.     I   can    remember 
quite  well  when  you  were  married." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Mrs.  Beatty,  gravely.  "It  is 
not  so  much  my  age,  perhaps;  but  you  should 
remember,  Mary,  that  I  am  related  to  your  father." 

"So  am  I." 

"Don't  be  ridiculous,  child.  Ah,  what  a  pity  it  is 
that  you  have  no  mother,  Mary !  It  is  a  greater  loss 
to  you  than  you  think. ' ' 

It  is  time  to  go  to  meet  papa, ' '  said  Mary,  rising. 

I  hope  Uncle  Richard  will  be  at  the  station." 

"Why?  What  do  you  want  with  your  Uncle 
Richard?" 

"Only  to  tell  him  that  we  are  on  good  terms  again, 
and  that  he  may  regard  Mr.  Jack  as  his  future  band- 
master."  She  hurried  away  as  she  spoke;  and  Mrs. 
Beatty' s  protest  was  wasted  on  the  old-fashioned 
sideboard. 


it 


CHAPTER   VII 

Miss  Cairns,  of  whom  Mary  Sutherland  had  spoken 
to  her  aunt,  was  an  unmarried  lady  of  thirty-four. 
She  had  read  much  for  the  purpose  of  remembering  it 
at  examinations ;  had  taken  the  of 

Science;  had  written  two  arti<  ' ,  .man  Suffrage, 

and   one   on    the    II  Edu      ti    a   of   Women,   for  a 

R,.        I  review;  and  \  contender  for  the 

gfht  of  her  sex  to  share  in  all  public  functions. 
Having  in  her  student  days  resolved  not  to  many, 
she     had     kept     her     resolution,     and     en<  red     to 

persuade  other  girls  to  foil  er  •  sample,  which  a 

few,   who  I  i    not    help   then.  .  did.  t  as  she 

approached   her  fortieth  ye  .d  found  1.         If  tiring 

of  1"'        .  lectures,  universe  .animations  of  women, 

and  land  id<  QS  in  general,  she 

ceased  to  dissuade  her  friends  from  marrying,  and 
even  ad  1    herself   with    some   zest  to  advising  and 

»siping   on    the    subject  of   their   lo\  With 

Mary   Sutherland,    who  had   ':  her  pupil,  and  was 

one  of  her  most  intimate  frien  Is,  she  frequently  re- 
sponded on  the  subject  of  Art,  for  which  she  had  a 
vast  reverence,  based  on  extensive  reading  and  entire 
practical  ignorance  of  the  subject.  She  knew  Adrian, 
and  had  gained  Mary's  gratitude  by  pronouncing  him 
a  great  artist,  though  she  had  not  seen  his  works.  In 
person  she  was  a  slight,  plain  woman,  with  small  fea- 
tures,   soft  brown    hair,    and   a   pleasant   expression. 

u8 


1 1 


t  i 


Love  Among  the  Artists  119 

Much  sedentary  plodding-  had  accustomed  her  to  deli- 
cate health,  but  had  not  soured  her  temper,  or  dulled 
her  habitual  cheerfulness. 

Early  in  September,  she  wrote  to  Mary  Sutherland. 

Newton  Villa,  Windsor, 

"4th  September. 

Dearest  Mary: — Many  thanks  for  your  pleasant 
letter,  which  makes  me  long  to  be  at  the  seaside.  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  losing  interest  in  your 
painting.  Tell  Mr.  Herbert  that  I  am  surprised  at 
his  not  keeping  you  up  to  your  work  better.  When 
you  come  back,  you  shall  have  a  good  lecture  from 
me  on  the  subject  of  luke-warm  endeavor  and  laziness 
generally :  however,  if  you  are  really  going  to  study 
music  instead,  I  excuse  you. 

"You  will  not  be  pleased  to  hear  that  the  singing 
class  is  broken  up.  Mr.  Jack,  unstable  as  dynamite, 
exploded  yesterday,  and  scattered  our  poor  choir  in 
dismay  to  their  homes.  It  happened  in  this  way. 
There  was  a  garden  party  at  Mrs.  Griffith's,  to  which 
all  the  girls  were  invited;  and  accordingly  they 
appeared  at  class  in  gay  attire,  and  were  rather  talka- 
tive and  inattentive.  Mr.  Jack  arrived  punctually, 
looking  black  as  thunder.  He  would  not  even 
acknowledge  my  greeting.  Just  before  he  came  in, 
Louisa  White  had  been  strumming  over  a  new  set  of 
quadrilles ;  and  she  unfortunately  left  the  music  on  the 
desk  of  the  pianoforte.  Mr.  Jack,  without  saying  a 
word  to  us,  sat  down  on  the  music  stool,  and,  of 
course,  saw  poor  Louisa's  quadrilles,  which  he 
snatched,  tore  across,  and  threw  on  the  floor.  There 
was  a  dead  silence,  and  Louisa  looked  at  me,  expecting 
me  to  interfere,  but — I  confess  it — I  was  afraid  to. 
Even  you,  audacious  as  you  are,  would  have  hesitated 
to  provoke  him.  We  sat  looking  at  him  ruefully  whilst 
he  played  some  chords,  which  he  did  as  if  he  hated 
the  piano.  Then  he  said  in  a  weary  voice,  'Go  on,  go 
on.'     I  asked  him  what  we  should  go  on  with.     He 


1 20  Love  Among  the  Artists 

looked  savagely  at  me,  and  said,  'Anything.     Don't' — 

He   said   the   rest   to   himself;    but   I   think  he  meant, 
'Don't  sit    there   si  like  a  fool.'     I  distribut 

me  music  in  a  nun        ad  put  a  copy  before  him. 
H<  Dot  to  tear  that;  but  he 

':  it  off  th<  it  it  ..  Then  we  began, 

he  playing  tl  n  without  book.         me 

of  thi  lers  indignant,  and  the 

rest  v."  and  laughinj  the  whole,  we 

did    QOl  ■    all  well.       He    heard  us  to 

the  end,  and  told  us  t<>  We  began  again 

and  a     and  Q,    he    1:       I  ing     with     brooding 

like    a  man    si:  >m    nenralgi 

His  silence  alarmed  me  m        tl   .a  anything;  for  he 

usually    s.  it    we    sin--  a   wrong   no* 

I  the  right  one  ;  mendous  V'  This  went 

on  for  about  twenty-five  minutes,  during  which,  I  must 

.  we   got   v    "         ind  W  At   last   Mr.  Jack 

r>  >     ■  I   bur         I  his 

coat.      Tl  all  were  u  me — as  if  I  could  do 

anything.  oing,    Mr.    Jack!"      No   answer. 

'We  shall   see   you   0U    Pi  usual,   I    BUpi  Mr. 

Jack?'     'N        .  nev<  Heaven!'     With  this 

ply,  made  in  a  tortured  v         with  intense  fervor,  he 

walked  out.     Tl.  •  ctive  against 

Mr.   jack,  with   infinite   1  and   some  vehe- 

ment defence  of  him.  .  White,  torn   quadrille 

in  hand,  began  it  I  that  his  conduct  w 

di  il.     'No  wonder,'  cried  Jane  Lawrence,  'with 

Hetty  Grahame  laughing  .  him  from  the  otf 

man.'  'It  was  at  the  singing  I  laughed,'  said  Hetty 
indignantly:  'it  was  enough  to  make  anyone  laugh. 
After  this  everybody  spoke  at  once;  but  at  last  each 
agreed  that  all  the  rest  had  behaved  very  badly,  and 
that  Mr.  [ack  had  been  scandalously  treated.  I 
thought,  and  I  still  think,  that  Mr.  Jack  has  to  thank 
his  own  ill-temper  for  the  bad  singing";  and  I  will  take 
care  that  he  shall  not  have  a  second  chance  of  being 
rude  to  me  (I  know  by  experience  that  it  is  a  mistake 


Love  Among  the  Artists  121 

to  allow  professors  to  trample  on  unprotected  females) 
but  of  course  I  did  not  say  so  to  the  girls,  as  I  do  not 
wish  to  spoil  his  very  unexpected  popularity  with 
them.  He  is  a  true  male  tyrant,  and,  like  all  idle 
women,  they  love  tyrants — for  which  treachery  to 
their  working  sisters  they  ought  to  be  whipped  and 
sent  to  bed.  He  is  now,  forsooth,  to  be  begged  to 
shew  grace  to  his  repentant  handmaids,  and  to  come 
down  as  usual  on  Friday,  magnanimously  overlooking 
his  own  bad  behavior  of  yesterday.  Can  you  manage 
to  bring  this  about.  You  know  him  better  than  any 
of  us;  and  we  regard  you  as  the  proprietress  of  the 
class.  Your  notion  that  Mr.  Jack  objects  to  your  join- 
ing it  when  you  return  to  Windsor,  is  a  piece  of  your 
crotchety  nonsense.  I  asked  him  whether  he  expected 
you  to  do  so,  and  he  said  he  hoped  so.  That  was  not 
yesterday,  of  course,  but  at  the  previous  lesson,  when 
he  was  in  unusually  good  spirits.  So  please  try  and 
induce  his  royal  highness  to  come  back  to  us.  If  you 
do  not,  I  shall  have  to  write  myself,  and  then  all  will 
be  lost;  for  I  will  encourage  no  living  man  to  trample 
on  my  sex,  even  when  they  deserve  it;  and  if  I  must 
write,  Seigneur  Jack  shall  have  a  glimpse  of  my  mind. 
Please  let  me  know  soon  what  you  can  do  for  us:  the 
girls  are  impatient  to  know  the  issue,  and  the}r  keep 
calling  and  bothering  me  with  questions.  I  will  send 
you  all  the  local  news  in  my  next  letter,  as  it  is  too 
near  post  hour  to  add  anything  to  this. — Yours,  dearest 
Mary,  most  affectionately. 

"Letitia  Cairns." 

Mary   forthwith,    in   a   glow   of   anger,    wrote  and 
despatched  the  following  to  Church  Street,  Kensington. 

"Bonchurch,  5th  September. 
''Dear  Mr.  Jack: — I  have  been  very  greatly  surprised 
and  pained  by  hearing  from  my  friend  Miss  Cairns 
that  you  have  abruptly  thrown  up  the  class  she  was 
kind  enough  to  form  for  you  at  Windsor.  I  have  no 
right  to  express  any  opinion  upon  your  determination 


122  Love  Among  the  Artists 

not  to  teach  her  friends  any  more;  hut  as  I  introduced 
you  to  her,  I  cannot  but  feel  that  I  have  been  the 
moans  of  exposing  her  to  an  affront  which  has 
evidently  wounded  her  deeply.  However,  Miss 
Cairns,  far  from  making  any  complaint,  is  anxious  that 

u    should    continue    your  lessons,  as  it  is  the  general 

desire  of  t.  that  you  should  do  so. 

"  Yours  ■  •  ly, 

"Mary  Sri  herland.  " 

Early  next  afternoon,  Miss  Cairns  was  alone  In  her 
drawing  room,  preparing  a  lecture  for  a  mutual 
impr         tent  society  whi  mded  in  Wind- 

r.     A  servant  came  in. 
"]  a  yon         I  Ir,  faci 

Miss  Cairns  laid  down   her  pen,  and  .        I  at  the 
man        Mr.  Jack!     It  is  not  his  usual  day." 

M     I;   but  it's  him.      I  said  you  was  busy;   and 

he  asked  whether  you  told  me  I  l  11  him  so.  I  think 
he's  in  a  wus  temper  than  last  day." 

"Yon  •  bring  him  up,"  said  Mi  -  Cairns, 

touching  her  hair  to  test  it  .  and  covering  up 

her    manuscript.       Ja  in  hurriedly,    and    cut 

ort   her         -.ration   by   exclaiming    in   an   agitated 

manner,       'Miss    (  I      received      a     letter — an 

in  fair.  I  ,-r.      It  says  that  you  accuse  i  having 

affronted  you,  and  ,        □  up  my  I  here,  and  other 

monstrous  thin.  ■  I  have  c>me  to  ask  you  whether 
you  really  said  anything  of  the  sort,  and,  if  so,  from 
whom  you  have  heard  these  slanders." 

"I  certainly  never  told  anyone  that  you  affronted 
me,"  said  Miss  Cairns,  turning-  pale.  "I  may  have 
said  that  you  gave  up  the  class  rather  abruptly; 
but " 

"But  who   told  you  that   I   had  given  up  the  class? 


Love  Among  the  Artists  123 

Why  did  you  believe  it  before  you  had  given  me  an 
opportunity  of  denying — of  repudiating  it.  You  do 
not  know  me,  Miss  Cairns.  I  have  an  unfortunate 
manner  sometimes,  because  I  am,  in  a  worldly  sense, 
an  unfortunate  man,  though  in  my  real  life,  heaven 
knows,  a  most  happy  and  fortunate  one.  But  I  would 
cut  off  my  right  hand  sooner  than  insult  you.  I  am 
incapable  of  ingratitude ;  and  I  have  the  truest  esteem 
and  regard  for  you,  not  only  because  you  have  been 
kind  to  me  but  because  I  appreciate  the  noble  qualities 
which  raise  you  above  your  sex.  So  far  from  neglect- 
ing or  wishing  to  abandon  your  friends,  I  have  taken 
special  pains  with  them,  and  shall  always  do  so  on 
your  account,  in  spite  of  their  magpie  frivolity.  You 
have  seen  for  yourself  my  efforts  to  make  them  sing. 
But  it  is  the  accusation  of  rudeness  to  you  personally 
that  I  am  determined  to  refute.  Who  is  the  author  of 
it?" 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Miss  Cairns,  blushing,  "that 
you  did  not  offend  me ;  and  whoever  told  you  I  com- 
plained of  your  doing  so  must  have  misunderstood  me. 
But  as  to  your  giving  up  the  class " 

"Aye,  aye.     Somebody  m«ust  have  told  you  that." 

"You  told  me  that  yourself,  Mr.  Jack." 

He  looked  quickly  at  her,  taken  aback.  Then  he 
frowned  obstinately,  and  began  walking  to  and  fro. 
"Ridiculous!"  he  said,  impatiently.  "I  never  said 
such  a  thing.     You  have  made  a  mistake. " 

"But " 

"How  could  I  possibly  have  said  it  when  the  idea 
never  entered  my  head?" 

"All  I  can  say  is,"  said  Miss  Cairns,  firmly,  being 
somewhat  roused,  "that  when  I  asked  you  whether  you 


1 2  |  Love  Among  the  Artists 

were  coming-  again,  you  answered  most  emphatically, 
'Never:'" 

Jack  stood  still   and  i  lered  a  moment.     "N 

no,'  he  said,  recommencing  his  walk,  "I  said  nothing 

of  the  kind." 

.de   no  comment,  but   looked   timidly  at  him, 
and  drummed  on  the  writing         k  with  her  finger. 

"At  least,"  he  said,  stopping  again,  "I  may  have 

said   so   thoughtlessly — as   a  mere    passing  remark.      I 

meant    nothing   by  it.      I    v         \   little    put  out   by  the 
infernal  manner  in  which  t'  behaved.       Perhaps 

you  did  n<>t  |         ive  my  annoyance,  and  so  took  what- 
ever I  said  i  ly. " 

'•Yes,    I    think   that   must   have   been    i:  id    M 

I  '    ly.      "II"  ace    it   was  all    a   mistake 

mine,  I  sum  you  will   continue   our  lessons  as  if 

nothing  had  ha]        ed  " 

"<  '     cour  rtainly.      Nothing  has  hap]  I." 

"I  am  tv  that  you  should   have  had  the  trouble 

com'  n.      It   is  t  1. ' 

"Well,  well,  it  is  not  your  fault,  M       Cairns.     It 

Dnot  be  helped. 

"May  I  ask,  from  whom  'lid  you  hear  of  my  mistake"' 

"From  wl  Prom  Mia    Sutherland,  of  course. 

There  is  no  one   else  living  under  h  D  who  would 

have  tin  write  such  venom." 

"Miss  Sutherland  is  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  Mr. 
Jack." 

"She  is  no  friend  of  mine.  Though  I  lived  in  her 
house  for  months,  I  never  ^ave  her  the  least  cause  of 
enmity  against  me.  Yet  she  has  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  stabbing  at  me." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Jack — won't  you  sit  down: 


Love  Among  the  Artists  125 

I  beg  your  pardon   for  not  asking  you  before — Miss 
Sutherland  has  not  the  least  enmity  to  you. ' ' 

"Read  that,"  said  Jack,  producing  the  letter.  Miss 
Cairns  read  it,  and  felt  ashamed  of  it.  "I  cannot 
imagine  what  made  Mary  write  that,"  she  said.  "I 
am  sure  my  letter  contained  nothing  that  could  justify 
her  remark  about  me." 

"Sheer  cruelty — want  of  consideration  for  others — 
natural  love  of  inflicting  pain.  She  has  an  overbearing 
disposition.  Nothing  is  more  hateful  than  an  over- 
bearing disposition." 

"You  do  not  understand  her,  Mr.  Jack.  She  is  only 
hasty.  You  will  find  that  she  wrote  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  fancying  that  I  was  annoyed.  Pray  think 
no  more  of  it." 

"It  does  not  matter,  Miss  Cairns.  I  will  not  meet 
her  again;  and  I  request  you  never  to  mention  her 
name  in  my  presence." 

"But  she  is  going,  I  hope,  to  join  the  class  on  her 
return  from  Bonchurch. ' ' 

"The  day  she  enters  it,  I  leave  it.  I  am  in  earnest. 
You  may  move  heaven  and  earth  more  easily  than 
me — on  this  point. ' ' 

"Really,  Mr.  Jack,  you  are  a  little  severe.  Do  not 
be  offended  if  I  say  that  you  might  find  in  your  own 
impatience  some  excuse  for  hers. ' ' 

Jack  recoiled.  "My  impatience!"  he  repeated 
slowly.  "I,  who  have  hardened  myself  into  a  stone 
statue  of  dogged  patience,  impatient!"  He  glared  at 
her;  ground  his  teeth;  and  continued  vehemently, 
"Here  am  I,  a  master  of  my  profession — no  easy  one 
to  master — rotting,  and  likely  to  continue  rotting 
unheard  in  the  midst  of  a  pack  of  shallow  panders, 


\2  Love  Among  the  Artists 

who  make  a  hotch-potch  of  what  they  can  steal  from 
hotter  men,    and    share     the    spoil    with    the    corrupt 

rformers  who  thrust  it  upon  the  public  for  them, 
or   the    l  1   dr.:  v  of  teaching-,  or 

grinding  an  organ  at  the  pl<  >me  cantic 

villain  of  a  parson,  i  r    leath  by  Star  n,  is  the  lot  of 

a   musician   in   thifl  '  I   have,  in   spite  of  this, 

never  composed  one  page  of  music  bad  enough  t 
publication  or  performance.      T   have   drudged    with 
pupils    when    I    coul  tarved    in    a  ret 

when  I  could  not;  endur  Lve my  works  returiv 

t<>    me    unopened    or   <  able    by    shop- 

k<  i  and  lazy  writte        worn  >ut 

y  hope  i         tting  im ;  d         ed 

m.  fruit*.  i  horrible 

fits  of   despair   that  •    out  of   n  n   nature;    and 

throughout  it  all   have  neither  i  1  nor  :i- 

tuted  m  re.     I  have  li  I       d  to 

complacent  assurai      s  that  publishers    and    <         rt- 

inal  work 
— that  it  is  theil  '  As  if  the 

would  Iti  if  they  I      r  it:  or  ratlv 

if  they  would    n<>t   instinct!  turn   away   from   any- 

thing good  and  genuin  All  this  I  have  borne  with- 
■  :t  suffering  from  it — without  the  humiliation  of 
finding  it  I  me  one  moment  of  disappoint- 

ment or  resentment;  and  now  you  tell  me  that  I  have 
no  patience,  because  I  have  no  disposition  to  humor 
the  caprices  of  idle  young  ladies.  I  am  accustomed  to 
hear  such  things  from  fools — or  I  was  when  I  had 
friends;  but  I  expected  more  sense  from  you." 

Mi--  Cairns  struggled  with  this  speech  in  vain.     All 
but   the   bare   narrative   in   it   seemed    confused    and 


((- 

LI 


Love  Among  the  Artists  127 

inconsequent  to  her.      "I  did  not  know,"  she  said, 
looking  perplexedly  at  him.     "It  never  occurred  to  me 

that — at  least "     She  stopped,  unable  to  arrange 

her  ideas.     Then  she  exclaimed,  "And  do  you  really 
love  music,  Mr.  Jack?" 

What  do  you  mean?"  said  he  sternly. 
I  thought  you  did  not  care  for  anything.  I  always 
felt  that  you  knew  your  business;  we  all  felt  so;  but 
we  never  thought  you  had  any  enthusiasm.  Do  not 
be  angry  with  me  for  telling  you  so;  for  I  am  very 
glad  to  find  that  I  was  wrong." 

Jack's  feature's  relaxed.  He  rose,  and  took  another 
turn  across  the  room,  chuckling.  "I  am  not  fond  of 
teaching,"  he  said;  "but  I  must  live.  And  so  you  all 
thought  that  an  ugly  man  could  not  be  a  composer. 
Or  was  it  because  I  don't  admire  the  drawling  which 
you  all  flatter  yourselves  is  singing,  eh?  I  am  not  like 
the  portraits  of  Mozart,  Miss  Cairns." 

"I  am  sure  we  never  thought  of  that,  only  somehow 
we  agreed  that  you  were  the  very  last  person  in  the 
world  to — to — " 

"Ha!  ha!  Just  so.  I  do  not  look  like  a  writer  of 
serenades.  However,  you  were  right  about  the 
enthusiasm.  I  am  no  enthusiast:  I  leave  that  to  the 
ladies.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  an  enthusiastically 
honest  man,  or  an  enthusiastic  shoemaker?  Never, 
and  you  are  not  likely  to  hear  of  an  enthusiastic  com- 
poser— at  least  not  after  he  is  dead.  No.'  He 
chuckled  again,  but  seemed  suddenly  to  recollect  him- 
self; for  he  added  stiffly,  "I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am 
detaining  you. ' ' 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Miss  Cairns,  so  earnestly 
that    she     blushed     afterwards.     "If     you     are    not 


128  Love  Anions  the  Artists 


■"> 


engaged,  I  wish  you  would  stay  for  B  few  minutes  and 
do  m<  at  favor.  " 

"Certainly.  Most  certainly,"  he  said.  Then  he 
added  suspici  ,  "What  is  it?" 

"Only  to  tethinj       r me  befoi        ago — if 

you  don't  mind."  Her  tone  expressed  that  intense 
curiosity  to  Witness  a  in::  tih;i:k'c  which  is  so 

common  among  nnmti  pie  whose  interest  in 

the  art  has  been  roused  by:        og.     Jack  m         tood 

it  quite  well;   but  he  ed  to  humor  her. 

"V«)U  want  to  Bee  the  6  rk,"  fa  |  od- 

humoredly.     ''Very  welL     What  shall  it  I 

Miss   Cairns.  f   music,  but   unaccustomed 

to  appear  ignorant  of  anything,  was  at  a  loss  "Some- 
thing cla  then,'       le    vent..  'Do   you  know 

Thai:  c  called  'Moses  in  I  I  believe 

that    is    very    fine;   but    it    is    ..'         very    difficult,    is   it 

not?" 

He  started,  and  looked  at  her  with  such  an  extra- 
ordina:  D    that   she  almost   I  .to  mistrust  him. 

Then   he   said,  ntly    to   himself,  "Candor,  Jack, 

candor.     You  once  th  >ught  so,  perhaps,  yourself." 

lie  twisted  his  lingers  until  their  joints  crackled; 
shook   his  shot  :    and  gnashed  his  teeth   once  or 

twice  at  the  keyboard.     Then  he  impr  set  of 

variations  on  the  prayer  fr<>m  "M  "  which  served 
Miss  Cairns's  turn  quite  as  well  as  if  they  had  been 
note  for  note  Thalberg's.  She  listened,  deeply 
impressed,  and  was  rather  jarred  when  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  rose,  saying,  "Well,  well:  enough  tom- 
foolery, Miss  Cairns." 

"Not  at  all,"  she  said.  "I  have  enjoyed  it  greatly. 
Thank  you  very  much." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  129 

"By  the  bye,"  he  said  abruptly,  "I  am  not  to  be 
asked  to  play  for  your  acquaintances.  Don't  go  and 
talk  about  me :  the  mechanical  toy  will  not  perform 
for  anyone  else. ' ' 

"But  is  not  that  a  pity,  when  you  can  give  such 
pleasure?" 

"Whenever  I  am  in  the  humor  to  play,  I  play; 
sometimes  without  being  asked.  But  I  am  not  always 
in  the  humor,  whereas  people  are  always  ready  to 
pretend  that  they  like  listening  to  me,  particularly 
those  who  are  as  deaf  to  music  as  they  are  to  every- 
thing else  that  is  good.  And  one  word  more,  Miss 
Cairns.  If  your  friends  think  me  a  mere  schoolmaster, 
let  them  continue  to  think  so.  I  live  alone,  and  I 
sometimes  talk  more  about  myself  than  I  intend.  I 
did  so  to-day.     Don't  repeat  what  I  said." 

"Certainly  not,  since  you  do  not  wish  me  to." 

Jack  looked  into  his  hat;  considered  a  moment;  then 
made  her  a  bow — a  ceremony  which  he  always  per- 
formed with  solemnity — and  went  away.  Miss  Cairns 
sat  down  by  herself,  and  forgot  all  about  her  lecture. 
More  accustomed  to  store  her  memory  than  to 
exercise  her  imagination  she  had  a  sensation  of  nov- 
elty in  reflecting  on  the  glimpse  that  she  had  got 
of  Jack's  private  life,  and  the  possibilities  which  it 
suggested.  Ker  mother  came  in  presently,  to  inquire 
concerning  the  visitor;  but  Miss  Cairns  merely  told 
who  he  was,  and  mentioned  carelessly  that  the  class 
was  to  go  on  as  before.  Mrs.  Cairns,  who  disapproved 
of  Jack,  said  she  was  sorry  to  hear  it.  Her  daughter, 
desiring  to  give  utterance  to  her  thoughts,  and  not 
caring  to  confide  in  her  mother,  recollected  that  she 
had  to  write  to  Mary.     This  second  letter  ran  thus: 


1 30  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Newton  Villa,  Windsor. 

"6th  September. 
"Dearest  Mary: — I  am  .        g  to  give  you  a  severe 
scolding  for  what  yen  have  done        at  Mr.  Jack.     He 

has  just   been    here   with    your   v.  d   letter,  furious, 

and  evidently  not  rem<  ring  a  bit  what  he  said  last 

day.  »out  the  class,  which  he  posith 

denies  having  given  up;  but  he  is  very  angry  with  you 
— not    witho  .  I    think.      Why  will    you   be 

pugnaciou        I  tried  to  make  your  p<        ;  but,  for  the 

he    is    imp  I  Ee    is  a   very 

Btra  man.      I  think  he  is   very  clever;   but    I  do  not 

understar.il  him,  though  I  ha  my  life  amoi 

profe        -  and  f  all  sorts,  and  fancied  I 

had  exhausted  the  s;u  My  logic  and  mathematics 

are         no  avail  when    I  try  -  with    Mr.  Jack: 

I    think.  •  t  wh 

have     often     urged     me     t<>     expl    re,     but     of    which, 
Unhappily,   I    k:i  >w   hardly  anythii:  I    got   him  into 

aj       '  humor  aft  r  f  trouble,  and  actually 

asked  him   l  »r  m<  d  he  did,  most  mag- 

nificently.     You   must  never  let  him  know  that  I  told 
11  thi  he   made   me   promi       1  tell   anyofl 

and    I  am  sure    he    is  a   terrible  !»■  1  betray.       II 

character — so  far  as  I  can  m  out — is  quite 

different  I  I  we  all  Bup]        I. — I  must  break  off 

here  to  go  to  <3         r.     I  have  no  doubt  he  will  relent 

towards  you  after  a  time:   his    wrath    does   not  endure 
ver. 

"Ev  lr  affectionate, 

14  Li  i 1 1 1  a  Cairns 

Miss  Cairns  had  no  sooner  sent  this  to  the  post  than 
she  began  to  doubt  whether  it  would  not  have  been 
better  to  have  burnt  it. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

The  autumn  passed ;  and  the  obscure  days  of  the 
London  winter  set  in.  Adrian  Herbert  sat  daily  at 
work  in  his  studio,  painting  a  companion  picture  to 
the  Lady  of  Shalott,  and  taking  less  exercise  than  was 
good  either  for  himself  or  his  work.  His  betrothed 
was  at  Windsor,  studying  Greek  with  Miss  Cairns,  and 
music  with  Jack.  vShe  had  carried  her  point  with  Mrs. 
Beatty  as  to  the  bandmastership ;  and  Jack  had  been 
invited  to  apply  for  it;  but  he,  on  learning  that  a 
large  part  of  his  duty  would  be  to  provide  the  officers 
of  the  regiment  with  agreeable  music  whilst  they 
dined,  had  unexpectedly  repudiated  the  offer  in  an 
intemperate  letter  to  the  adjutant,  stating  that  he  had 
refused  as  an  organist  to  be  subject  to  the  ministers 
of  religion,  and  that  he  should  refuse,  as  a  conductor, 
to  be  the  hireling  of  professional  homicides.  Miss 
Cairns,  when  she  heard  of  this,  in  the  heat  of  her 
disappointment  reproached  him  for  needlessly  making 
an  enemy  of  the  colonel ;  embittering  the  dislike  of 
Mrs.  Beatty,  and  exposing  Mary  to  their  resentment. 
Jack  thereupon  left  Newton  Villa  in  anger;  but  Miss 
Cairns  learned  next  day  that  he  had  written  a  letter  of 
thanks  to  the  colonel,  in  which  he  mentioned  that  the 
recent  correspondence  with  the  adjutant  had  unfor- 
tunately turned  on  the  dignity  of  the  musical  pro- 
fession, and  begged  that  it  might  be  disassociated 
entirely  from  the  personal  feeling  to  which  he  now 

131 


13-  Love  Among  the  Artists 

sought  to  giv<         rcssi  To  Miss  Cairns  herself  lie 

te  briefly  t  ■  that  it  had  occurred  to  him 
that  Miss  Sutherland  might  be  willir.  I  i  join  the 
singing  class,  and  I  I  he  hoped  she  would  be  asked 
to  do  •    this  doul  'ii   Miss  Cairns 

exulted;  but   Mary,  humiliated  by  the  failure  of  her 
t  to  1  efriend  him,  would  not  join,  and  re         1  all 

O,    until    J.  ting   her   one    day   in   the 

street,  si       ed  her;  inqui  ter  Charlie;  and  finally 

•  i  one  i  >£  the  i         meeti  61 

to  have  this  ,  she  not  only  entered 

th(  .  but  requested  him  I  t  her  in  the  study 

.  which  had   reC(  .    to   teach 

herself   from   a   t  e.      A.S  it    proved,    however,    he 

d    rather    than    assisted    her;     for,    though    an 
adept   in  the   r.  E   chords,  Y.<  intelli- 

mpt   to  naiut  :ul  h<  r- 

cises,    <  to    the    instructions   given 

in  the  treat:-  ed  him  nd  measure. 

Meanwhil  .     M  Brailsford,     with      many 

impatient  sighs,  Lining   I       peak  the   English 

language  with  purity  and  distinctn     ,  and  beginning 

to  Look  on  >r  which  she  had 

ignorantly  ridiculed  famous  actors,  as  enviable  con- 
ditions of  their  SU]  rity  to  herself.  ie  did  not 
enjoy   her   stu            for  Jack   was  very   exacting;  and 

the  romantic  aspect  of  their  first  meeting  at  Padding- 
ton  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  dread  he  inspired  as  a 
master.      She  left  Church  et  after  her  first  lesson 

in   a   state   of    exhaustion;    and,    long    after  she   had 
come  accustomed  to  endure  his  criticism  for  an  hour 
without    fatigue,    she  often  could  hardly  restrain  her 
tears   when   he   emphasized    her   defects    by    angrily 


Love  Among  the  Artists  133 

mimicking  them,  which  was  the  most  unpleasant,  but 
not  the  least  effective  part  of  his  system  of  teaching. 
He  was  particular,  even  in  his  cheerful  moods,  and  all 
but  violent  in  his  angry  ones;  but  he  was  indefati- 
gable, and  spared  himself  no  trouble  in  forcing  her 
to  persevere  in  overcoming  the  slovenly  habits  of 
colloquial  speech.  The  further  she  progressed,  the 
less  she  could  satisfy  him.  His  ear  was  far  more  acute 
than  hers;  and  he  demanded  from  her  beauties  of 
tone  of  which  she  had  no  conception,  and  refinements 
of  utterance  which  she  could  not  distinguish.  He 
repeated  sounds  which  he  declared  were  as  distinct 
as  day  from  night,  and  raged  at  her  because  she  could 
hear  no  difference  between  them,  He  insisted  that 
she  was  grinding  her  voice  to  pieces  when  she  was 
hardly  daring  to  make  it  audible.  Often,  when  she 
was  longing  for  the  expiry  of  the  hour  to  release  her, 
he  kept  her  until  Mrs.  Simpson,  who  was  always 
present,  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  interfered  in 
spite  of  the  frantic  abuse  to  which  a  word  from  her 
during  the  lesson  invariably  provoked  him.  Magdalen 
would  have  given  up  her  project  altogether,  for  the 
sake  of  escaping  the  burden  of  his  tuition,  but  for 
her  fear  of  the  contempt  she  knew  he  would  feel  for 
her  if  she  proved  recreant.  So  she  toiled  on  without 
a  word  of  encouragement  or  approval  from  him ;  and 
he  grimly  and  doggedly  kept  her  at  it,  until  one  day, 
near  Christmas,  she  came  to  Church  Street  earlier 
than  usual,  and  had  a  long  conference  with  Mrs. 
Simpson  before  he  was  informed  of  her  presence. 
When  he  came  down  from  his  garret  she  screwed  her 
courage  up  to  desperation  point,  and  informed  him 
that  she  had  obtained  an  engagement  for  a  small  part 


1 3  i  Lov<    Among  the  Artists 

in    the    opening    of    a   pantomime    at    Nottingham. 
Instead  of  exploding  fi<  tared  a  little;  rubbe  1 

his   head   perplexedly;    and    then     said,    "Well,     well: 

von    must    begin  r:    the  sooner    the    better. 

Von  will  have  to  do  po  it  work,  in  poor  company,  for 

me  time,  perha]         at  yon  must  ve  in  yourself, 

and  not  flinch  a  the  drudgery  of  the  first  year  or 
tw         Keep  the  fire   al  alight  on  the  altar,  and 

every  pla  ;o  inl  ome  a  temple.     Don't 

be  mean:  it  moi  irtunities,  or 

ects!     V  ••;  can  spe  ban   ninety- 

nine  out  of  a  hundi  nber  that.     If 

you  ever  want  to  do  as  the  your         will  be 

»ing  v  it  will  b  n   that  your  soul 

is  .        \  wrong  too.     I  >  me,  eh?' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Madge,  dutifully. 

He  '.         I  at  her  very  sus  ly,  and  uttered  a  sort 

owl,  i  •        ally,  it  will 

do   you   g  "   likely  to  get 

applauded   and  Don't  l1     I    have 

taught  you:  you  will  I  »f  it  when  yon  have 

begun  to  understan  >n. " 

M  tested  that   she        mid  never  forget, 

and  tried  I  ratitu  the  trouble  he 

had   taken   with   her.         he   tu  I   that   he  would  not 

reveal  her  destination  to  anyone,  as  it  was  necessary 
for  her  to  evade  her  family  a  second  time  in  order  to 
fulfil  her  engagement.  He  replied  that  her  private 
arrangements  were  no  business  of  his,  advising-  her  at 
the  same  time  to  reflect  I  e  she  quitted  a  luxurious 

home  for  a  precarious  and  vagabond  career,  and  recom- 
mending Mrs.  Simpson  to  her  as  an  old  hag  whose 
assistance  would  be  useful  in  any  business  that  required 


Love  Among  the  Artists  135 

secrecy  and  lying.     "If  you  want  my  help,"  he  added, 
"you  can  come  and  ask  for  it." 

"She  can  come  and  pay  for  it,  and  no  thanks  to 
you,"  said   Mrs.  Simpson,  goaded  beyond  endurance. 

Jack  turned  on  her,  purple  and  glaring.  Madge 
threw  herself  between  them.  Then  he  suddenly 
walked  out;  and,  as  they  stood  there  trembling  and 
looking  at  one  another  in  silence,  they  heard  him  go 
upstairs  to  his  garret. 

"Oh,  Polly,  how  could  you?"  said  Madge  at  last, 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

"I  wonder  what  he's  gone  for,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson. 
"There's  nothing  upstairs  that  he  can  do  any  harm 
with.     I  didn't  mean  anything." 

He  came  down  presently,  with  an  old  wash-leather- 
purse  in  his  hand.  "Here,"  he  said  to  Madge.  They 
knew  perfectly  well,  without  further  explanation,  that 
it  was  the  money  she  had  paid  him  for  her  lessons. 

"Mr.  Jack,"  she  stammered:  "I  cannot." 

"Come,  take  it,"  he  said.  "She  is  right:  the  people 
at  Windsor  pay  for  my  wants.  I  have  no  need  to  be 
supported  twice  over.  Has  she  charged  you  anything 
for  the  room?" 

No,"  said  Madge. 

Then  the  more  shame  for  me  to  charge  you  for 
your  lessons,"  said  Jack.  "I  shall  know  better 
another  time.  Here:  take  the  money,  and  let  us 
think  no  more  about  it.  Goodbye!  I  think  I  can 
work  a  little  now,  if  I  set  about  it  at  once."  He  gave 
her  the  purse,  which  she  did  not  dare  refuse;  shook 
her  hand  with  both  his;  and  went  out  hurriedly,  but 
humbly. 

Three  days  after  this,  Adrian  Herbert  was  disturbed 


136  Love  Among  the  Artist 

at  his  easel  by  Mr.  Brailsford,  who  entered  the  studio 

in  an  extraordinarily  excited  condition, 

'Mr.  Brailsford!     I  am  very  glad  to What  is 

the  matter?" 

"Do  you  b  anything  of     Magdalen?    She    is 

missing  :n."      Herbert  assumed  an  air  of  concern. 

"Herbert:  I  appeal  to  you,  if  she  has  confided  her 
plans  to  you,  not  to  ruin  her  by  a  misplaced  respect  for 
her  fool 

"I  a:  sure  yon  I  am  as  much  surprised  as  you.  W.iv 
should  >se  that  I  am  in  her  confidence?" 

"You  were  much  in  her  company  during  yourrecent 
visits    to   us;   and    y  re    ll.  ■:    a  man  a  yonng 

girl  WOnld  confide  any  crazy  project   t<>.      Voii  and  she 

have  talked  together  a  good  deal." 

"Well,  we  have  had   two  conversations  within  the 

last  six  weeks,  both  of  which  came  about  by  accident. 
We  we:  long  of  my  affairs  only.      you    know 

Miss  Sutherland  is  a  friend  of  hers.  She  is  our  lead- 
ing topic. " 

"This  is  very  pointing,  Herbert.    Confoundedly 

so." 

"It  is  unfortunate;  and  I  am  surry  I  know  nothing." 

"Yes,  yes:  I  knew  you  were  not  likely  to:  it  was 
mere  clutchi  W.      Herbert:   when   I  get  that 

girl  back,  I'll  1  ck  her  up,  and  not  let  her  out  of  her 
room  until  she  leaves  it  to  be  married." 

"When  did  she  go?" 

"Last  night.  We  did  not  miss  her  until  this  morn- 
ing. She  has  gone  to  disgrace  herself  a  second  time 
at  some  blackguard  country  theatre  or  other.  And 
yet  she  has  always  been  treated  with  the  greatest 
indulgence  at  home.     She  is  not  like  other  girls  who 


Love  Among  the  Artists  137 

do  not  know  the  value  of  a  comfortable  home.  In 
the  days  when  I  fought  the  world  as  a  man  of  letters, 
she  had  opportunities  of  learning  the  value  of  money." 
Mr.  Brailsford,  as  he  spoke,  moved  about  constantly; 
pulled  at  his  collar  as  if  it  were  a  stock  which  needed 
to  be  straightened;  and  fidgeted  with  his  gloves.  "I 
am  powerless,"  he  added.  "I  cannot  obtain  the 
slightest  clue.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  sit  down 
and  let  my  child  go." 

"Are  you  aware,"  said  Herbert  thoughtfully,  "that 
she  has  been  taking  lessons  in  acting  from  a  professor 
of  music  during  the  last  few  months?" 

"No,  sir,  I  certainly  am  not  aware  of  it,"  said 
Brailsford  fiercely.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear 
Herbert;  but  she  is  a  damned  ungrateful  girl;  and 
her  loss  is  a  great  trouble  to  me.  I  did  not  know; 
and  she  could  not  have  done  it  if  her  mother  had 
looked  after  her  properly." 

"It  is  certainly  the  case.  I  was  very  much  surprised 
myself  when  Miss  Sutherland  told  me  of  it,  especially 
as  I  happened  to  have  some  knowledge  of  the  person 
whom  Miss  Brailsford  employed." 

"Perhaps  he  knows.  Who  is  he  and  where  is  he  to 
be  found?" 

"His  name  is  an  odd  one — Jack." 

"Jack?  I  have  heard  that  name  somewhere.  Jack? 
My  memory  is  a  wreck.  But  we  are  losing  time.  You 
know  his  address,  I  hope." 

"I  believe  I  have  it  here  among  some  old  letters. 
Excuse  me  whilst  I  search." 

Herbert  went  into  the  ante-room.  Mr.  Brailsford 
continued  his  nervous  movements;  bit  his  nails;  and 
made  a  dab  at  the  picture  with  his  glove,  smudging  it. 


i  :  Love  Among  the  Artists 

The  dis  :■)'   that  he    had    wantonly  dune   mischief 

ibered  him  a  little;  and  presently  Adrian  return' 

with  i  letters. 

■•(  reet,  Kensington,"  h<     taid.     l*\V;!l  you 

''Instantly,  Herbert,  atly.     Will  you  come 3 

"  •  lid  Adrian,  hesitating. 

"(         inly.      Yon  m  ie.     This   is  some  low 

who    has    ]  hild's  money,    ai 

:            that    she  is  a   Mrs.    S                   I   had 

myself  a  tin           |  Young,  wl 

th                 hly  of  i:  '   mor<       i  than  I  d 

of  him.     l'  rha]  i  I  .  ing  you  away  from  your 

- 

'It   is   •  k   to  work  much   I  In  any  ca 

the    matter    is    too    i  icrificed  to  my 

r    of    an   hour    later,    Mrs.    Simpson's    maid 

kr.         I  at  the  et,  and  informi 

him  that  tw<       atlemen  were  waiting  in  the  drawing- 

r<  i  ee  him. 

"What  are  they  like?"  said  Ja  "Are  you  sure 
they  want  me?" 

"Certain  sure,"  said  the  girL  "(  me  of  'em's  a  nice 
young  gentleman  with  a  flaxy  beai    ;  and  the  other 

his  father,  I  think.      Ain't  he   a  dapper  old   toll,  too!" 

"Give  me  my  boots;  and  tell  them  I  shall  be  down 
presently." 

The  maid  then  appeared  to  Mr.  Brailsford  and 
Adrian,  saying,  "Mr.  Jax'll  be  down  in  a  minnit,"  and 
vanished.  Soon  after,  Jack  came  in.  In  an  instant 
Mr.  Brailsford's  eyes  lit  up  as  if  he  saw  through  the 
whole  plot;  and    he   rose   threateningly.      Jack  bade 


<  t 
1 1 


Love  Among  the  Artists  139 

good  morning  ceremoniously  to  Herbert,  who  was 
observing  with  alarm  the  movements  of  his  com- 
panion. 

"You  know  me,  I  think,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Brailsford, 
threateningly. 

"I  remember  you  very  well,"  replied  Jack  grimly. 
"Be  pleased  to  sit  down." 

Herbert  hastily  offered  Mr.  Brailsford  a  chair, 
pushing  it  against  his  calves  just  in  time  to  interrupt 
an  angry  speech  at  the  beginning.  The  three  sat 
down. 

We  have  called  on  you,  Mr.  Jack,"  said  Adrian, 
in  the  hope  that  you  can  throw  some  light  on  a  matter 
which  is  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  Mr.  Brailsford. 
Miss  Brailsford  has  disappeared " 

"What!"  cried  Jack.  "Run  away  again.  Ha!  ha! 
I  expected  as  much." 

"Pray  be  calm,"  said  Herbert,  as  Mr.  Brailsford 
made  a  frantic  gesture.  "Allow  me  to  speak.  Mr. 
Jack:  I  believe  you  have  lately  been  in  communication 
with  the  young  lady." 

"I  have  been  teaching  her  for  the  last  four  months, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean. " 

"Pray  understand  that  we  attach  no  blame  to  you 
in  the  matter.  We  merely  wish  to  ascertain  the 
whereabouts  of  Miss  Brailsford:  and  we  thought  you 
might  be  able  to  assist  us.  If  so,  I  feel  sure  you  will 
not  hesitate  to  give  this  gentleman  all  the  information 
in  your  power." 

"You  may  reassure  yourself,"  said  Jack.  "  She  has 
got  an  engagement  at  some  theatre  and  has  gone  to 
fulfil  it.  She  told  me  so  a  few  days  ago,  when  she 
came  to  break  off  her  lessons. ' ' 


1 40  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"We  particularly  wish  to  find  out  where  she  has 
gone  to,"  said  Herbert  slowly. 

"Veil  must  find  that  out  as  best  you  can,"  said  Jack, 
looking  attentively  at  him.  he  mentioned  the  place 

to  me;  but  Bhe  asked  me  not  to  repeat  it,  and  it  is  not 
my  bu  >  SO." 

""II.  :        •.•'  cried  Mr.  Hrailsford,  "Herbert." 

"Pray:1  nonstratcd     Adrian.       "Just    allow   me 

one  word " 

"Herbert,"  persisted  the  other:  "tl.         the  fellow 

of  whom  I  told  you  as   we  can  .;  ID  the  cab.       Ib- 

is her  accompli         You  know  y<  continued, 

turning  to  Jack,  and   raising  his  voice.      "  I 'o  you  still 
ny  that  you  are  her  .. 
Jack  stared  at  him  imperturbably. 

"It  is  a  conspiracy, "  Mr.  BrailsforcL     "It,  has 

been  a  conspiracy  from  the    first;    and  you  are  the 

prime  mover  in  it.  You  shall  not  bully  me,  sir.  I 
will  ma'  ak." 

"There,  the-  d  Ja         "T        him  away,  Mr 

Herbert" 

Adrian  Btepped  hastily  between  them,  fearing  that 
his  companion  would  proceed  to  violence.  Before 
another  word  could  poken  the  door  was  opened  by 
Mrs.  Simpson,  who  started  and  stopped  short  when 
she  saw  vis::         in  the  room. 

"I  beg  pardon Why,  it's  Mr.  Brailsford,"  she 

added,  reddening.  "I  hope  I  see  you  wed,  sir,"  she 
continued,  advancing  with  a  propitiatory  air.  "I  am 
honored  by  having  you  in  my  house." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  look  which 
made  her  tremble.  "So  it  is  you  who  introduced  Miss 
Magdalen   to  this  man.      Herbert,   my  dear  boy,   the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  141 

thing  is  transparent.  This  woman  is  an  old  retainer 
of  ours.  It  was  her  sister  who  took  Madge  away 
before.     I  told  you  it  was  all  a  conspiracy." 

" Lord  bless  us!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Simpson.  "I  hope 
nothing  ain't  happened  to  Miss  Magdalen." 

"If  anything  has,  you  shall  be  held  responsible  for 
it.     Where  has  she  gone?" 

"Oh,  don't  go  to  tell  me  that  my  sweet  Miss 
Magdalen  has  gone  away  again,  sir!" 

"You  hear  how  they  contradict  one  another, 
Herbert?" 

Mrs.  Simpson  looked  mistrustfully  at  Jack,  who  was 
grinning  at  her  with  cynical  admiration.  "I  don't 
know  what  Mr.  Jack  may  have  put  into  your  head 
about  me,  sir,"  she  said  cautiously;  "but  I  assure  you 
I  know  nothing  of  poor  Miss  Magdalen's  doings.  I 
haven't  seen  her  this  past  month." 

"You  understand,  of  course,"  remarked  Jack,  "that 
that  is  not  true.  Mrs.  Simpson  has  always  been 
present  at  your  daughter's  lessons.  She  knows  per- 
fectly well  that  Miss  Brailsford  has  gone  to  play  at 
some  theatre.     She  heard  it  in " 

"I  wish  you'd  mind  your  own  business,  Mr.  Jack," 
said  the  landlady,  sharply. 

"When  lies  are  needed  to  serve  Miss  Brailsford,  you 
can  speak,"  retorted  Jack.  "Until  then,  hold  your 
tongue.  It  is  clear  to  me,  Mr.  Herbert,  that  you  want 
this  unfortunate  young  lady's  address  for  the  purpose 
of  attempting  to  drag  her  back  from  an  honorable 
profession  to  a  foolish  and  useless  existence  which  she 
hates.  Therefore  I  shall  give  you  no  information.  If 
she  is  unhappy  or  unsuccessful  in  her  new  career,  she 
will  return  of  her  own  accord. ' ' 


1 42  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"I  fear,"  said  Herbert,  embarrassed  by  the  presence 
of  Mrs.  Simpson,  "that  we  can  do  no  good  by  remain- 
ing here. " 

"You  arc  right,"  said  Mr.  Brailsford.  "I  decline  to 
address  myself  further  to  either  of  yon.  «  »lher  steps 
shall  be  taken.  And  you  shall  repent  the  part  you 
have  played  on   this  0  >n,  Mrs.  Simpson.      As   for 

you,  sir,  I  can  only  say  1  trust  this  will  prove  our  last 
meeting." 

"I  shan't  repent  no  think,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson. 
"Why  shouldn't  I  assist  the  pretty " 

"Come!"  ^.iid  Jack,  interrupting  her,  "we  have  said 

enough.       Good  ling,    Mr.     Herbert."      Adrian 

colored,    and    moved    t  Is   thi  "Von    shall 

be    welcome    whenever   you    wish    t<>   see    me,"    added 

lack;  "but  at  present  you  had  better  take  th  ntle- 
man  away."         jrbert  I  1  slightly,  and  went  out, 

annoyed  by  th         rupt  dismissal,  and  even  more 
the  attempt  I        ften  it     Mr.  Brailsford  walked  stiffly 
after  him,  staring  indignantly  at  Mrs.   Simpson  and 
her  lodger.     Provoked  to  mirth  by  thi  ustration, 

jack,  who  had  hitherto  behaved  wit'  ed 

his  nose  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  grinned 
hideously  through  his  fingers  at  his  vi 

"As  I  told  you  before,"  said  Mr.  Brailsford,  turning 
i  he  reached  the  threshold,  "you  are  a  vile  kid- 
napper; and  I  will  see  that  your  trade  is  exposed  and 
put  a  ftop  to.  " 

"As  I  told  you  before,"  said  Jack,  removing  his 
hand  from  his  nose,  "you  are  an  old  fool;  and  I  wish 
you  good  afternoon." 

"Sh — sh,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  as  Mr.  Brailsford, 
with    a    menacing    wave    of    his   glove,    disappeared. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  143 

"You  didn't  ought  to  speak  like  that  to  an  old  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Jack. " 

"His  age  gives  him  no  right  to  be  ill-tempered  and 
abusive  to  me,"  said  Jack  angrily. 

"Humph!"  retorted  the  landlady.  "Your  own 
tongue  and  temper  are  none  of  the  sweetest.  If  I  was 
you,  I  wouldn't  be  so  much  took  aback  at  seeing 
others  do  the  same  as  myself." 

"Indeed.  And  how  do  you  think  being  me  would 
feel  like,  Mrs.  Deceit?" 

"I  wouldn't  make  out  other  people  to  be  liars  before 
their  faces,  at  all  events,  Mr.  Jack." 

"You  would  prefer  the  truth  to  be  told  of  you 
behind  your  back,  perhaps.  I  sometimes  wonder  what 
part  of  my  music  will  show  the  influence  of  your 
society  upon  me.     My  Giulietta  Guicciardi!" 

"Give  me  no  more  of  )^our  names,"  said  Mrs.  Simp- 
son, shortly,  "I  don't  need  them." 

Jack  left  the  room  slowly  as  if  he  had  forgotten  her. 
Meanwhile  Mr.  Brailsford  was  denouncing  him  to 
Herbert.  "From  the  moment  I  first  saw  him,"  he 
said,  "I  felt  an  instinctive  antipathy  to  him.  I  have 
never  seen  a  worse  face,  or  met  with  a  worse  nature." 

"I  certainly  do  not  like  him,"  said  Herbert.  "He 
has  taken  up  an  art  as  a  trade,  and  knows  nothing  of 
the  trials  of  a  true  artist's  career.  No  doubts  of  him- 
self; no  aspirations  to  suggest  them;  nothing  but  a 
stubborn  narrow  self-sufficiency.     I  half  envy  him. ' 

"The  puppy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brailsford,  not  attend- 
ing to  Adrian:  "to  dare  insult  me!  He  shall  suffer 
for  it.  I  have  put  a  bullet  into  a  fellow — into  a 
gentleman  of  good  position — for  less.  And  Magdalen 
— my    daughter — is    intimate    with   him — has   visited 


144  Love  Among  the  Artists 

him.  Girls  are  going  to  the  devil  of  late  years, 
Herbert,  ,  to  the   very  devil.      She  shall   not  give 

me  the  slip  again,  when  I  catch  her." 

Mr.   Brailsford,  however,  did  not  catch  Magdalen. 
Her  .  her  clear  delivery  of  the  doggerel 

allotted  to  her  in  the  pantomime,  gained  the 
favor  of  the  Nottingham  playgoers.  Their  applause 
prevented  her  tt  wing  w  of  re         og  her 

WOrthle  lit  nightly  for  six  weeks,  and  compensated 

her  for  the  d  :ifort  and  humiliation  of  living  among 

le   whom   she   could    not   help   n  her 

inferior       ad  with  whom  she  had    to  co-operate  in 

entertaining   v  ■   with    \  mtries, 

fascinating  them  by  a  I         omeliness,  not 

only   of   her   face,  hut  of   more  of   her  peTS  >n    than  she 

had  been    e  I    to  shew  at    Kensington    Palace 

Gardens.     Her  -t  shocked  her  at  first; 

but  she  n.  up  her  mind   1  oept  it  without  demur, 

partly  because  wearing  such  things  was  plainly  part  of 
an  actress's  .  and   partly  because  she   felt  that 

any  <  tion  <>n   her   part  would   imply  an   immodest 

sel:  tciousne  Besi  les,  she  had  no  moral  convic- 

11  that  it  was  wrong,  who  •  he  had  no  doubt  at  all 

that  petth  were  a  nuisance.      She  could  not  bring 

herself  to  accept  with  equal  frankness  the  society 
which  the  pantomime  company  offered  to  her.  Miss 
Lafitte,  the  chief  performer,  was  a  favorite  with  the 
public  on  account  of  her  vivacity,  her  kill  in  clog- 
dancing,  and  her  command  of  slang,  which  she  uttered 
in  a  piercing  voice  with  a  racy  Whitechapel  accent. 
She  took  a  fancy  to  Magdalen,  who  at  first  recoiled. 
But  Miss  Lafitte  (in  real  life  Mrs.  Cohen)  was  so 
accustomed    to    live    down    aversion,    that    she    only 


Love  Among  the  Artists  145 

regarded  it  as  a  sort  of  shyness — as  indeed  it  was. 
She  was  vigorous,  loud  spoken,  always  full  of  animal 
spirits,  and  too  well  appreciated  by  her  audiences  to  be 
jealous.  Magdalen,  who  had  been  made  miserable  at 
first  by  the  special  favor  of  permission  to  share  the 
best  dressing-room  with  her,  soon  found  the  advantage 
of  having  a  good-natured  and  powerful  companion. 
The  drunken  old  woman  who  was  attached  to  the 
theatre  as  dresser,  needed  to  be  kept  efficient  by  sharp 
abuse  and  systematic  bullying,  neither  of  which  Mag- 
dalen could  have  administered  effectually.  Miss 
Lafitte  bullied  her  to  perfection.  Occasionally  some 
of  the  actors  would  stroll  into  the  dressing  room, 
evidently  without  the  least  suspicion  that  Magdalen 
might  prefer  to  put  on  her  shoes,  rouge  herself,  and 
dress  her  hair  in  private.  Miss  Lafitte,  who  had  never 
objected  to  their  presence  on  her  own  account,  now 
bade  them  begone  whenever  they  appeared,  at  which 
they  seemed  astonished,  but  having  no  intention  of 
being  intrusive,  retired  submissively. 

"You  make  yourself  easy,  deah,"  she  said  to  Mag- 
dalen. "Awe-y-'ll  take  kee-yerr  of  you.  Lor'  bless 
you,  awe-y  know  wot  you  are.  You're  a  law'ydy. 
But  you'll  get  used  to  them.    They  don't  mean  no  'arm. 

Magdalen,  wondering  what  Jack  would  have  said  to 
Miss  Lafitte's  vowels,  disclaimed  all  pretension  to  be 
more  of  a  lady  than  those  with  whom  she  worked ;  but 
Miss  Lafitte,  though,  she  patted  the  young  novice  on 
the  back,  and  soothingly  assented,  nevertheless  con- 
tinued to  make  a  difference  between  her  own  behavior 
in  Magdalen's  presence,  and  the  coarse  chaff  and 
reckless  flirtation  in  which  she  indulged  freely  else- 
where.    On  boxing  night,  when  Madge  was  nerving 


i.j  Love  Among  the  Artists 

herself  to  face  the  riotous  audience,  Miss  Lafittc  told 
her  that  she  looked  beautiful;  exhorted  her  cheerfully 
to  keep  up  her  pecker  and  ne\  .y  die;  and,  ridicul- 

ing her  U  t  putting  too  much  paint  on  Ik  e, 
plastered  her  clucks  and  blackened  the  margins  of  her 
ea  until  she  blushed  though  the  mask  of  pigment. 
When  the  call  came,  she  went  with  her  to  the  wing; 
pushed  her  on  to  the  bo  at  the  ri  instant;  and 
praised     her    enthusiasticall       when     she    returned. 

M  i    hardly    knew    what    had    |  OD     the 

DplimentS,  and  tried  to 
return   them   when    Mi  5S    La::   •       ame   to  the  d  Qg 

room,  flushed  with  th  .  of  sin;      g  a  topical 

song  with  a  en  I  dancing  a  break- 

\vn  between  each. 

"I'm     used     to     it,"     said    Miss    I  "It's    my 

knowledge  <>f  music-hall         ness  that  makes  me  what 

I  am.  You  wouldn't  catch  me  on  the  stage  at  all, 
only  that  my  husband's  a  bit  0    a  11  in  his  own  way 

— he'll   lik  that — and   Ik-   th  the    theatre 

m<>re  resp  e.      It  don'-  well,  I  can  tell  you; 

but'         use  it's  surer  and 

"Wei  U  nervous  at  your  first   appearance?"  said 

Ma 

"Oh,  wawn't  I  though!  Just  a  little  few.  I  cried 
at  bavin'  to  go  on.  I  wasn't  cold  and  plucky  like 
you;  but  I  got  over  it  soon<  I  know  your  sort:  you 

will  be  nervous  all  your  life.  I  don't  care  twopence 
for  any  audience  now,  nor  ever  did  after  my  second 
night." 

"I  may  have  looked  cold  and  plucky,"  said  Madge, 
surprised.  tkI  never  felt  more  miserable  in  my  life 
before. " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  147 

"Yes.  Ain't  it  awful?  Did  you  hear  Lefanu? — 
stuck  up  little  minx!  Her  song  will  be  cut  out  to- 
morrow. She's  a  reg'lar  duffer,  she  is.  She  gives 
herself  plenty  of  airs,  and  tells  the  people  that  she 
was  never  used  to  associate  with  us.  I  know  who  she 
is  well  enough:  her  father  was  an  apothecary  in 
Bayswater.  She's  only  fit  to  be  a  governess.  You're 
worth  fifty  of  her,  either  on  the  boards  or  off." 

Madge  did  not  reply.  She  was  conscious  of  having 
contemplated  escape  from  Miss  Lafitte  by  attaching 
herself  to  Miss  Lefanu,  who  was  a  ladylike  young 
woman. 

"She  looks  like  a  print  gown  after  five  washings," 
continued  Miss  Lafitte;  "and  she  don't  know  how  to 
speak.  Now  you  speak  lovely — almost  as  well  as  me, 
if  you'd  spit  it  out  a  bit  more.     Who  taught  you?" 

When  the  pantomime  had  been  played  for  a  fort- 
night, Madge  found  herself  contemptuously  indifferent 
to  Miss  Lefanu,  and  fond  of  Miss  Lafitte.  When 
the  latter  invited  her  to  a  supper  at  her  house,  she 
could  not  refuse,  though  she  accepted  with  misgiving. 
It  proved  a  jovial  entertainment — almost  an  orgie. 
Some  of  the  women  drank  much  champagne ;  spoke  at 
the  top  of  their  voices;  and  screamed  when  they 
laughed.  The  men  paid  court  to  them  with  facetious 
compliments,  and  retorted  their  raillery  with  broad 
sarcasms.  Madge  got  on  best  with  the  younger  and 
less  competent  actors,  who  were  mostly  unpropertied 
gentlemen,  with  a  feeble  amateur  bent  for  singing 
and  acting,  who  had  contrived  to  get  on  the  stage,  not 
because  they  were  fit  for  it,  but  because  society  had 
not  fitted  them  for  anything  else.  They  talked 
theatrical  shop  and  green  room  scandal  in  addition  to 


i  i  Love  Anion g  the  Artists 

the  usual  I  '  young  gentlemen  at  dances;  and  they 

shielded    Magdal<         ficiently  from  the   freer  spirits. 
Sometim<  -  an  unusually  illy  would  reach  h< 

rs,   and  bring  upon    her    as  of    disgust   and 

humi  n;     but,    though    she    resolved    to    attend    no 

ni  next     ay  to  assure  her 

ho  '    sin  ■   that  she   was  none   the 

worse   for  h<  .  and  that  she  had 

never  i         ed    fa  much  at  any   Kensington 

supper  party.     Miss  Lafitte  the-  ed  her, 

and    told   her   thai  hail    been  ball, 

d  that   '  '  ■     ■  of  L     arus, 

her    hi.  name)    had   r<  her   as    a    real 

hue  .        id    v.  1    with    h<  Then    she 

ked  her  wheth.  '  think  Laddie  a  hand- 

some  man.     Ma  her,  replied  that  she  had 

been  Btru  '.  by  his         i  hair                 .  and  that  his 

manners  wen           ant.  "There  is  one  thing/"  she 

led,   "that  i        '•  •      .     I   .                 U  you 

Miss  Lafitte  1  I  you  by  your 

your  hou  I  don't  knov.  etiquette, 

"Call  n      3    .       aid  Mrs.         en,  kissing  her. 

When  th  mime  v.  r,  and  the  company 

di-  .  the  only  mem'  f  it  whose   departure  she 

Lafitte;   and   she  never  after- 
wards fell  into  th  ofounding  incorrigible 

rowdyism   and  a  Whitecha]  -cent  with   true  unfit- 

ness for  society.      By  h  '.vice,  Mi  accepted   an 

er  ment  as  one  of  the  stock  company  of  the  Xot- 

ham  theatre  at  the  salary — liberal  for  a  novice — of 
two  pounds  per  week.  For  this  she  did  some  hard 
work.     Every  night  she  had  to  act  in  a  farce,  and  in  a 


Love  Among  the  Artists  149 

comedy  which  had  become  famous  in  London.  In  it, 
as  in  the  pantomime,  she  had  to  play  the  same  part 
nightly  for  two  weeks.  Then  came  three  weeks  of 
Shakspere  and  the  legitimate  drama,  in  which  she  and 
the  rest  of  the  company  had  to  support  an  eminent 
tragedian,  a  violent  and  exacting  man,  who  expected 
them  to  be  perfect  in  long  parts  at  a  day's  notice. 
When  they  disappointed  him,  as  was  usually  the  case, 
he  kept  them  rehearsing  from  the  forenoon  to  the  hour 
of  performance  with  hardly  sufficient  interval  to  allow 
of  their  dining.  The  stage  manager,  the  musicians, 
the  scene-painters  and  carpenters  even,  muttered 
sulkily  that  it  was  impossible  to  please  him.  He  did 
not  require  the  actors  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  their 
lines — it  was  supposed  that  he  was  jealous  of  their 
attempts  at  acting,  which  were  certainly  not  always 
helpful — but  he  was  inflexible  in  his  determination  to 
have  them  letter-perfect  and  punctual  in  the  move- 
ments and  positions  he  dictated  to  them.  His  dis- 
pleasure was  vented  either  in  sarcasms  or  oaths;  and 
often  Madge,  though  nerved  by  intense  indignation, 
could  hardly  refrain  from  weeping  like  many  other 
members  of  the  compan3T,  both  male  and  female,  from 
fatigue  and  mortification.  She  worked  hard  at  her 
parts,  which  were  fortunately  not  long  ones,  in  order 
to  escape  the  humiliation  of  being  rebuked  by  him. 
Yet  once  or  twice  he  excited  her  fear  and  hatred  to 
such  a  degree  that  she  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  the 
theatre,  and  abandoning  her  profession.  It  was  far 
worse  than  what  Jack  had  made  her  endure ;  for  her 
submission  to  him  had  been  voluntary;  whilst  with 
the  tragedian  she  could  not  help  herself,  being  paid  to 
assist  him,  and  ignorant  of  how  to  do  it  properly. 


150  Love   Among  the  Artists 

Towards  the  end  of  the  second  week  her  business 
became  easier  by  repetition  She  a;  red  as  the 
player  qneen  in  Hamlet,  the  lady-in-waiting  in 
Macbeth,    and   the   widow   of    King   Edward   IV.,    and 

began  t         I  for  the  first  time  a  certain  ct  for  the 

silently  listeni:  that  crowded   the 

hous<  .      It  was  the   1.  im  Stirring  in   her  of  a  sense 

that  her  r  .  actress  to  the  |  ve 

all  her  other  relations.      If   the  tragedian  had  felt  this 
etween    the   audience   and    the  company   of  which 
he   v.  ut  a  part,   he   might  have  inspired  them  to 

work  all  together  with  a  wi  •  the  pi  >  the 

people.      But   he   was   a   "  1    1    part 

and  no  influence  but  hi  Q.         le  and  h<  ' 

were  dwarfed  and  put  <  ntenance;  their  so 

were  cut  short  and  hurried  thr  ;  the  rt  BW( 

man  who,  as  Richmond  and   Macdui       lew  the  star 

thrice  a  week   in   mortal   com"  >   the  only  person 

who  shared   with   him   tl.  mpliment  1       I     all  before 

the    curtain.       Naturally,    the]        11    hated     Shakspere; 
and  the  audiences  distinctly  |  igedian 

to  the  poet,  never  prote  .inst  h  Liming  of  on 

them  versions  by  Cibber  or  <  iarriek   1  nuine  Sha 

Bperean  play 

On  the  second  Saturday,  when  Madge  was  eon- 
gratulating  herself  on  having  only  six  days  more  of 
the  national  Bard  to  endure,  the  principal  actress 
sprained  her  ankle;  and  the  arrangements  for  the 
ensuing  week  were  thrown  into  confusion.  The 
manager  came  to  Madge's  lodging  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  told  her  that  she  must  be  prepared  to  play 
Ophelia,  Lady  Ann,  and  Marion  Delorme  (in  Lytton's 
"Richelieu")  in  the  course  of  the  following  week.      It 


Love  Among  the  Artists  151 

was,  he  added,  a  splendid  chance  for  her.  Madge  was 
distracted.  She  said  again  and  again  that  it  was 
impossible,  and  at  last  ventured  to  remind  the  manager 
that  she  was  not  engaged  for  leading  parts.  He  dis- 
posed of  this  objection  by  promising  her  an  extra  ten 
shillings  for  the  week,  and  urged  upon  her  that  she 
would  look  lovely  as  Ophelia;  that  the  tragedian  had 
made  a  point  of  giving  the  parts  to  her  because  he 
liked  her  elocution;  that  his  fierceness  was  only  a  little 
way  of  his  which  meant  nothing;  that  he  had  already 
consented  to  substitute  "Hamlet"  and  "Richelieu" 
for  "Much  Ado"  and  "Othello"  because  he  was  too 
considerate  to  ask  her  to  play  Beatrice  and  Desde- 
mona;  and,  finally,  that  he  would  be  enraged  if  she 
made  any  objection.  She  would,  said  the  manager, 
shew  herself  as  willing  as  old  Mrs.  Walker,  who  had 
undertaken  to  play  Lady  Macbeth  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  Madge,  ashamed  to  shrink  from  an 
emergency,  and  yet  afraid  of  failing  to  please  the 
tyrant  at  rehearsal,  resisted  the  manager's  importu- 
nity until  she  felt  hysterical.  Then,  in  desperation,  she 
consented,  stipulating  only  that  she  should  be  released 
from  playing  in  the  farces.  She  spent  that  Sunday 
learning  the  part  of  Ophelia,  and  was  able  to  master  it 
and  to  persuade  herself  that  the  other  two  parts  would 
not  take  long  to  learn,  before  she  went  to  bed,  dazed 
by  study  and  wretched  from  dread  of  the  morrow. 
"Hamlet"  had  been  played  twice  already,  and  only  the 
part  of  Ophelia  and  that  of  the  player  queen  needed 
to  be  rehearsed  anew.  On  Monday  morning  the  tra- 
gedian was  thoughtful  and  dignified,  but  hard  to  please. 
He  kept  Madge  at  his  scene  with  Ophelia  for  more 
than  an  hour.     She  had  intended  to  try  and  fancy  that 


152  Love  Among  the  Artists 

she  was  really  Ophelia,  and  he  really  Hamlet;  but 
when  the  time  came  t<>  practice  this  primitive  theory 
of  acting,  she  did  not  dare  to  forget  herself  tot  a 
moment.      She  had  to  count  1.  I   repeat  her 

entrance  four  times  before  she  succeeded  in  placing 
herself  at  the  right  moment  in  the  exact  spot  towards 
which  the  tragedian  looked  when  exclaiming  "Soft 
you  qow!     The   fair  Ophelia."      For  a  long  time   she 

mid   not  offer  him   the   packet  of  letters   in   a  sat' 
factory  manner;  and   by   tin-   time   this  difficulty   was 
mastered,  she   wa  d  that  when  he  said, 

"II      ed    \'"U   not,"  she,   instead   1  plying,  "I    v. 

the  more  d  "Indeed,  my  lord,  you  made 

me  beli<  "  whereupon  he  started;  lo  at  her 

for   a   moment,    □  imp-  cen    his 

teeth;    and    abruptly  walk  S   th<  leaving   her 

tht  ig.     Sudden  ,ht  hcr- 

f  of  what  had  done;  and  her  cl  an  to 

tingle.  She  was  reb  I  by  the  return  of  Hamlet, 
who,  una  •  to  find  words  to  express  his  feelings, 
repeated  his  Bpeech  without  making  any  verbal  com- 
ment on  her  slip.  This  time  made  the  proper 
an  and  the  rehearsal  p  led.  The  new 
player  queen  sufTered  less  than  M  e  had  done  a 
week  before,  the  t  ban  tl  ting  her  with  brief 
disdain.  He  was  very  particular  about  Ophelia's 
chair  and  fan  in  the  play  scene;  but  when  these  were 
arranged,  he  left  the  theatre  without  troubling  him- 
self about  the  act  in  which  he  did  not  h  If  appear. 
Madge,  left  comparatively  to  her  own  devices  in 
rehearsing  it,  soon  felt  the  want  of  his  peremptory 
aidance,  and  regretted  his  absence  almost  as  much  as 
she  was  relieved  by  it.     The  queen,   jealous,  like  the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  153 

other  actresses,  of  Madge's  promotion,  was  disparag- 
ing in  her  manner;  and  the  king  rehearsed  with  osten- 
tatious carelessness,  being  out  of  humor  at  having  to 
rehearse  at  all.  Everybody  present  shewed  that  they 
did  not  consider  the  scene  of  the  least  importance;  and 
Madge  sang  her  snatches  of  ballads  with  a  dishearten- 
ing sense  of  being  unpopular  and  ridiculous. 

The  performance  made  amends  to  her  for  the 
rehearsal.  The  tragedian  surpassed  himself;  and 
Madge  was  compelled  to  admire  him,  although  he  was 
in  his  fiftieth  year  and  personally  disagreeable  to  her. 
For  her  delivery  of  the  soliloquy  following  her  scene 
with  him,  she  received,  as  her  share  of  the  enthusiasm 
he  had  excited,  a  round  of  applause  which  gratified 
her  the  more  because  she  had  no  suspicion  that  he  bad 
earned  the  best  part  of  it.  The  scene  of  Ophelia's 
madness  was  listened  to  with  favor  by  the  audience, 
who  were  impressed  by  the  intensely  earnest  air  which 
nervousness  gave  Madge,  as  well  as  by  her  good  looks. 

Next  day  she  had  leisure  to  study  the  part  of  Lady 
Anne  in  Cibber's  adaptation  of  "Richard  III.,"  which 
was  rehearsed  on  the  Wednesday;  and  this  time  the 
tragedian  was  so  overbearing,  and  corrected  her  so 
frequently  and  savagely,  that  when  he  handed  her  his 
sword,  and  requested  her  to  stab  him,  she  felt  disposed 
to  take  him  at  his  word.  In  the  scene  from  Richard's 
domestic  life  in  which  he  informs  his  wife  that  he 
hates  her,  he  not  only  spoke  the  text  with  a  cold 
ferocity  which  chilled  her,  but  cursed  at  her  under  his 
breath  quite  outrageously.  At  last  she  was  stung  to 
express  her  resentment  by  an  indignant  look,  which 
fell  immediately  before  his  frown.  When  the 
rehearsal,    which,    though     incomplete,     lasted    from 


154  Love  Among  the  Artists 

eleven  to  four,  was  over,  Madge  was  angry  and  very 
tired.      As   she   was   leaving,  she   I  I  near  Riehard, 

who  was  conversing  graciously  with  the  manager  and 

one  of  the  actors.  The  night  before,  he  had 
threatened  to  c  the  theatre  because  the  one  had  cur- 

tailed his  ;        men;   and  he  had  accused 

the  other  of  Intentionally  insulting  him  by  appearing 
on  th(         ;c  without  Bpux 

,4Who  is  that  little  girl?"  he  said  aloud,  pointing  to 

Madge 
The  manager,  surprised  at  th<  ion,  made  some 

ply  which  did  not  reach  her,  his  voice  and  utterance 

being  1  and  distinct   than   the   tragedian's. 

"I'm jr.'     •  I    with    me.      I    am 

aw  that     What  is  she  i         ;?" 

The  manager  told  him. 

"Come     I  he    said    to     Madge,    in   his   grand 

manner.  and  si 

"Come  here,"  he  mphatically.     She 

Was  '  ed    to  feel    sure  of   her   right   to   be 

tr<  e    re  .    so    she    approached    him 

►wly. 

14  Who  taught  y<  >u  I 

Dtleman   in    London,"    she   said,    coldly.      "A 
Mr,  J*  k  ." 

"Jack:"      The  dian       paused.      "Jack!"     he 

re-  d.      Then,  with   a   smile,  and   a  graceful  action 

of  his  wrists,  "I  never  heard  of  him."  The  other  men 
laughed.  "Would  you  like  to  tour  through  the 
provinces  with  me — to  act  with  me  every  night?" 

">'"::    '"  -aid   the   manager,  jocularly,  "I   shall   have 

mething    to    say  to  that.      I   cannot  afford   to  lose 
her." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  155 

"You  need  not  be  alarmed,"  said  Madge,  all  her 
irritation  suddenly  exploding  in  one  angry  splutter. 
"I  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  breaking  my 
present  engagement,  particularly  now,  when  the  most 
unpleasant  part  of  it  is  nearly  over. "  And  she  walked 
away,  pouting  and  scarlet.  The  manager  told  her 
next  day  that  she  had  ruined  herself,  and  had  made  a 
very  ungrateful  return  for  the  kindness  that  she,  a 
beginner,  had  received  from  the  greatest  actor  on  the 
stage.  She  replied  that  she  was  not  conscious  of 
having  received  anything  but  rudeness  from  the 
greatest  actor  on  the  stage,  and  that  if  she  had  offended 
him  she  was  very  glad.  The  manager  shook  his  head 
and  retired,  muttering  that  a  week's  leading  business 
had  turned  her  head.  The  tragedian,  who  had  been, 
for  so  terrible  a  person,  much  wounded  and  put  out  of 
heart  by  her  attack,  took  no  further  notice  of  her, 
demanding  no  fresh  rehearsal  of  Ophelia,  and  only 
giving  her  a  few  curt  orders  in  the  small  part  of  Marion 
Delorme.  At  last  he  departed  from  Nottingham ;  and 
Madge,  for  the  first  time  since  his  arrival,  lay  down  to 
sleep  free  from  care. 

Her  next  part  was  that  of  a  peasant  girl  in  an  Irish 
melodrama.  She  looked  very  pretty  in  her  Connemara 
cloak  and  short  skirt,  but  was  hampered  by  her  stage 
brogue,  which  only  made  her  accent  aggressively 
English.  During  this  period,  she  was  annoyed  by  the 
constant  attendance  in  the  stalls  of  a  young  gentleman 
who  flung  bouquets  to  her;  followed  her  to  her  lodg- 
ing; and  finally  wrote  her  a  letter  in  which  he  called 
her  a  fairy  Red  Riding  Hood,  describing  his  position 
and  prospects,  and  begging  her  to  marry  him.  Madge 
after  some  hesitation  as  to  the  advisability  of  noticing 


i  q6  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 


b 


this  appeal,  replied  by  a  note  declining  his  offer,  and 
requesting  him  to  discontinue  his  gifts  of  flowers, 
which,  jibe  said,  were  a  source  of  embarrassment,  and 
not  of  pleasure,  to  fa  After  this,  the  young  gentle- 

man, '  of  a]        uding,  as  before,  sat  in  his  stall 

with  folded  arms  and  a  gloomy  expr<        n.     M 
who  wa  this  time  sufficiently  accustomed  to  the 

tor  i  .      ■  g  the  audience,  took  care 

not  to  '•  h  .*  him;  and  so,  after  a  week,  he  ceased  to 
attend  and  s:  v  him  no  more. 

The  Irish  melodrama  passed  onto  the  next  town; 

and  an  English   i  mpany  came  in  its  place  for  a 

fortnight,  during  which  M  found  the  time  hang 

heavy  on  her  hai  she  took  no  part  in  the  per- 

:     inances,  though   sh<  i    t     the  theatre  daily  from 

habit.  she  was  at  work  again  in  a 

modern  play  with  which  a  popular  actress  was  making 
the    tour     of     the     provin  This     actress     was     an 

amiable  woman;  "'       een  in  "As  You 

Like  It"  at  her  benefit  with'  I       ival  of  the  dre 

Shakspen         ich    the  ti        Lian  had  implanted  in 
her.     She  was  now  beginning  to  tread  the  boards  with 

ease.       At      first,      the      necessity     of     falling 
punctually   into  ■  in   prearra-  positions  on  the 

<f  making  her  exits  trances  at  pre- 

scribe I  sides,  had  so  |  •  d  her  that  all  freedom 

of  attention  or  identification  of  herself  with  the  char- 
acter she  re;  I  had  been  imp  le.  To  go 
through  her  set  task  of  speeches  and  manoeuvres  with 
accuracy  was  the  most  she  could  hope  to  do.  Now, 
however,  there  mechanical  conditions  of  her  art  not 
only  ceased  to  distract  her,  but  enabled  her  to  form 
plans  of  acting  which  stood  the  test  of  rehearsal.     She 


Love  Among  the  Artists  157 

became  used  to  learning  parts,  not  from  a  book  of  the 
play,  but  from  a  mere  list  of  the  fragments  which  she 
had  to  utter;  so  that  she  committed  her  lines  to 
memory  first,  and  found  out  what  they  were  about 
afterwards.  She  was  what  is  called  by  actors  a  quick 
study;  and  in  Nottingham,  where,  besides  the 
principal  piece,  one  and  often  two  farces  were  per- 
formed nightly,  she  had  no  lack  of  practice.  In  four 
months,  she  was  second  in  skill  only  to  the  low  come- 
dian and  the  old  woman,  and  decidedly  superior  to 
the  rest  of  the  stock  company,  most  of  whom  had 
neither  natural  talent  nor  even  taste  for  the  stage,  and 
only  earned  their  livelihood  on  it  because,  their 
parents  having  been  in  the  profession,  they  had  been 
in  a  manner  born  into  it. 

Madge's  artistic  experience  thenceforth  was  varied, 
though  her  daily  course  was  monotonous.  Other 
tragedians  came  to  Nottingham,  but  none  nearly  so 
terrible,  nor,  she  reluctantly  confessed,  nearly  so  gifted 
as  he  who  had  taught  her  the  scene  from  Hamlet. 
Some  of  them,  indeed,  objected  to  the  trouble  of 
rehearsing,  and  sent  substitutes  who  imitated  them  in 
every  movement  and  so  drilled  the  company  to  act 
with  them.  Occasionally  a  part  in  a  comedy  of  con- 
temporary life  enabled  Madge  to  profit  by  her  knowl- 
edge of  fashionable  society  and  her  taste  in  modern 
dress.  The  next  week,  perhaps,  she  would  have  to 
act  in  a  sensational  melodrama,  and,  in  a  white  muslin 
robe,  to  struggle  in  the  arms  of  a  pickpocket  in 
corduroys,  with  his  clothes  and  hands  elaborately 
begrimed.  Once  she  had  to  play  with  the  wreck  of  a 
celebrated  actress,  who  was  never  free  from  the  effects 
of  brandy,  and  who    astonished    Madge    by  walking 


i*8  Love  Among  the  Artists 


b 


steadily  on  the  stage  when  she  could  hardly  stand  off  it. 
Then    Shakspei  nsation   drama,    Irish    melodrama, 

mie  o  dime,  new  comedy  from  London 

q,  with  fa  instantly.    Stn  hearsal,  and 

performan  fher<  habits.     Her  old 

thusiasm  for  the  m<  >f  the  Btage  left  her, 

and  was  sir  a  desire  to  im  I  skill  in 

s|m  'acquiring  as  much  resource  in  shades  of 

meaning        Jack  had  given  her  in  pure  pronunciation, 

and    t<>  add   as   man  to 

the  stock   she    hid   already  learnt.     When    she   was  not 

■d  at  the  theatre  .t  her         ing,  practis- 
ing the  managen  trying  to  acquire  the 
ki             dispo  prettily  in  the  act  oi  sit- 
down,   or  arranging  itures  into    various 
expressions!            amin  This  hist  branch  of  her 

craft    was     -         most     troublesome     to    h<  had 

ied  from  J  much  rprise,  that  she  could 

not  make  .•  rely 

mful      The  result  of  that  meth 

behold;  and  it 
Wi  re   she  ct   control  of  h< 

features,  andartisticji  tercisingit    Some- 

times she  erred  on  the  eraf    a,  and  failed 

to  COn<  >rt  which  her  studied  acting  required. 

Then  she  recoiled  into  tameness  and  conventionality. 
Then,  waking  from  this,  she  tried  a  modification  of 
her  former  manner,  and  presently  became  dissatisfied 
with  that  too,  and  remodified  it.  Not  until  she  had 
gone  through  two  years  of  hard  study  and  practice 
did  she  find  herself  mistress  of  a  fairly  complete 
method;  and  then  indeed  she  felt  herself  an  actress. 
She  ridiculed  the  notion  that  emotion  had  anything  to 


Love  Among  the  Artists  159 

do  with  her  art,  and  seriously  began  to  think  of  taking 
a  pupil,  feeling  that  she  could  make  an  actress  of  any 
girl,  the  matter  being  merely  one  of  training.  When 
she  had  been  some  four  months  in  this  phase,  she  had 
a  love  affair  with  a  young  acting  manager  of  a  touring 
company.  The  immediate  effect  was  to  open  her  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  the  people  were  tired  of  her  complete 
method,  and  that  she  was  tired  of  it  too.  She  flung  it 
at  once  to  the  winds  for  ever,  and  thenceforth  greatly 
undervalued  her  obligations  to  the  study  it  had  cost 
her,  declaring,  in  the  teeth  of  her  former  opinion,  that 
study  and  training  were  useless,  and  that  the  true 
method  was  to  cultivate  the  heart  and  mind  and  let  the 
acting  take  care  of  itself.  She  cultivated  her  mind  by 
high  reading  and  high  thinking  as  far  as  she  could. 
As  to  the  cultivation  of  her  heart,  the  acting  manager 
taught  her  that  the  secret  of  that  art  was  love.  Now 
it  happened  that  the  acting  manager,  though  pleasant- 
looking  and  good-natured,  was  by  no  means  clever, 
provident,  or  capable  of  resisting  temptation.  Madge 
never  could  make  up  her  mind  whether  he  had 
entangled  her  or  she  him.  In  truth  love  entangled 
them  both;  and  Madge  found  that  love  suited  her 
excellently.  It  improved  her  health;  it  enlarged  her 
knowledge  of  herself  and  of  the  world;  it  explained 
her  roles  to  her,  thawed  the  springs  of  emotion  that 
had  never  flowed  freely  before  either  on  or  off  the 
stage,  threw  down  a  barrier  that  had  fenced  her  in 
from  her  kind,  and  replaced  her  vague  aspirations, 
tremors,  doubts,  and  fits  of  low  spirits  with  an  elate 
enjoyment  in  which  she  felt  that  she  was  a  woman  at 
last.  Nevertheless,  her  attachment  to  the  unconscious 
instrument  of  this  mysterious  change  proved  transient. 


i6o  Love  Among   the  Artists 

The  acting  manager  had  but  slender  intellectual 
resources:  when  his  courtship  grew  stale,  he  became  a 
bore.      After  a  while,  their  |  sional   engagements 

carried  them  asunder;  and  as  a  correspondent  lie  soon 
broke  down.  Madge,  did  n<>t  feel  the  parting:  she 
found  a  certain  delight  in  being  fancy-free;  and  befoie 
that  was  exhausted  she  was  already  dreaming  of  a  new 

lover,    an    innocent    young    English-opera    librettist, 

whom    she    infatuated   and  ared    and    who    came 

nearer   than    she   BU  ted    to   blowing  out   his  brains 

from  remorse  at  having,  as  he  thought,  ensnared  her. 
His  ]  or  her  was  ;.         t  in  its  devotion;   but  at  last 

she  went  elsewhe         md,  as  her  letters  "iitly 

ceased,  his  parents,  with  much  trouble,  managed  to 
convince  him  at  last  that  no  loi  him. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  these  pi  dings  cost 

Madge     her     self-respect.  tood    on     her    honor 

cording  to  h  r<  □  tinct;  took  no  (        ;  tolerat 

no  advances  from  men  v.  lions  were  not  truly 

touched;    absorbed  all    her   |  :i    in    her   art   when 

there    were    no   sue;.  .imants;   never   sold 

herself  or  threw  herself  away;  would  content  herself 
at  any  time  with  poetry  without  love  rather  than 
endure  l<>ve  without  poetry.  She  rather  pitied  her 
married  colleagues,  knowing  perfectly  well  that  th 
were  not  free  to  be  so  fastidious,  reserved,  and  tem- 
perate as  her  instinct  told  her  a  great  artist  should 
always  be.  Polite  society  pretended  to  respect  her 
when  it  asked  her  to  recite  at  bazaars  or  charity  con- 
certs: at  other  times  it  did  not  come  into  contact  with 
her,  nor  trouble  itself  as  to  her  conformity  to  its  rules, 
since  she,  as  an  actress,  was  out  of  polite  society  from 
the    start.      The    ostracism    which    is    so    terrible   to 


Love  Among  the  Artists  161 

women  whose  whole  aim  is  to  know  and  be  known  by 
people  of  admitted  social  standing  cannot  reach  the 
woman  who  is  busily  working  with  a  company  bound 
together  by  a  common  co-operative  occupation,  and 
who  obtains  at  least  some  word  or  sign  of  welcome 
from  the  people  every  night.  As  to  the  Church,  it 
had  never  gained  any  hold  on  Madge :  it  was  to  her 
only  a  tedious  hypocrisy  out  of  all  relation  with  her 
life.  Her  idea  of  religion  was  believing  the  Bible 
because  God  personally  dictated  it  to  Moses,  and  going 
to  church  because  her  father's  respectability  required 
her  to  comply  with  that  custom.  Knowing  from  her 
secular  education  that  such  belief  in  the  Bible  was 
as  exploded  as  belief  in  witchcraft,  and  despising 
respectability  as  those  only  can  who  have  tasted  the 
cream  of  it,  she  was  perfectly  free  from  all  pious 
scruples.  Habit,  prejudice,  and  inherited  moral 
cowardice  just  influenced  her  sufficiently  to  induce  her 
to  keep  up  appearances  carefully,  and  to  offer  no  con- 
tradiction to  the  normal  assumption  that  her  clandestine 
interludes  of  passion  and  poetry  were  sins.  But  she 
never  had  a  moment  of  genuine  remorse  after  once 
discovering  that  such  sins  were  conditions  of  her  full 
efficiency  as  an  actress.  They  had  brought  tones  into 
her  voice  that  no  teaching  of  Jack's  could  have 
endowed  her  with;  and  so  completely  did  she  now 
judge  herself  by  her  professional  powers,  that  this 
alone  brought  her  an  accession  instead  of  a  loss  of  self- 
respect.  She  was  humiliated  only  when  she  played 
badly.  If  one  of  the  clergymen  who  occasionally  asked 
her,  with  many  compliments,  to  recite  at  their  school 
fetes  and  the  like,  had  demanded  instead  what  it  could 
profit  her  to  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  her  own 


162  Love  Among  the  Artists 

soul,  she  might  have  replied  with  perfect  sincerity  from 
her  point  of  view  that  she  had  .  n  up  the  whole 
world  of  Mrs.  Grundy  and  gained  her  own  soul,  and 
that,  whether  he  cons  d  it  judicious  to  mention  it 

or  not,  the  trail  >n  in  fact  profited  h<  ly. 

at  all   this    belonged    t<>   a  later   period   than  the 
novitiate  of  1  la  half  years  which  began  at  Nott- 

ingham. These  thirty  months  did  net  pa^s  without 
many  61  Irits,  during  which  she  despaired  <>f 

success   and   hated   her  n.      She    remained   at 

ittingham  until  July,  □  the         itre  there  w 

1  for  a  time.  :c   then  a  travelling  com- 

pany    and    went   thi  vns    until    she 

tained  an  -  I   lI  T  ■     Is.    Thence  she  went  to 

L  K>1,  where  SO  1  for  three  months,  at  the 

ipiration  of  which  d  offer  i  her 

the  manager  of  a   th  in   Edinburgh,   and  went 

thitfc  he  la: 

had   as  yet  1  «.      There 

she  sta  ust  in  tin  r  of  her 

.  when  '  Ion  for  the  first 

tinu-,  and  was  f  the  metro- 

litan  and  .but  scanty  at 

that    period   of    the    y<  was    j^lad    to    return 

the    provin  h    her   first    task    there   was 

ain  to  support  her  old  acquaintance  the  t  in, 

with   whom   she  quarrelled  at   the   first   re'  d  with 

spirit  and  sue  Here,  as  leading  lad  emp- 

ted  the  parts  of  Beatrice,  Portia,  and  1.         ' '.     beth, 

succeeding    fairly    in    the    first,    triumphantly   in    the 

•id  and  only  escaping  failure   by  her  insignificance 

in  the  third.      By  that  time  she  had  come  to  be  known 

by   the   provincial   managers   as   a  trustworthy,    hard- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  163 

working-  young  woman,  safe  in  the  lighter  sorts  of 
leading  business,  and  likely  to  improve  with  more 
experience.  They  hardly  gave  her  credit  enough,  she 
thought,  for  what  seemed  to  her  the  slow  and  painful 
struggle  which  her  progress  had  cost  her.  Those  were 
the  days  in  which  she  was  building  up  the  complete 
method  which,  though  it  was  a  very  necessary  part  of 
her  training,  proved  so  shortlived.  She  had  had  to 
exhaust  the  direct  cultivation  of  her  art  before  she 
could  begin  the  higher  work  of  cultivating  herself  as 
the  source  of  that  art. 

Shortly  after  her  flight  from  Kensington,  her  twenty- 
first  birthday  had  placed  her  in  a  position  to  defy  the 
interference  of  her  family;  and  she  had  thereupon 
written  to  her  father  acquainting  him  with  her  where- 
abouts, and  with  her  resolve  to  remain  upon  the  stage 
at  all  hazards.  He  had  replied  through  his  solicitor, 
formally  disowning  her.  She  took  no  notice  of  this; 
and  the  solicitor  then  sent  her  a  cheque  for  one 
hundred  pounds,  and  informed  her  that  this  was  all  she 
had  to  expect  from  her  father,  with  whom  she  was  not 
to  attempt  to  establish  any  further  communication. 
Madge  was  about  to  return  the  money,  but  was 
vehemently  dissuaded  from  doing  so  by  Mrs.  Cohen, 
who  had  not  at  that  time  quitted  Nottingham.  It 
proved  very  useful  to  her  afterwards  for  her  stage 
wardrobe.  In  defiance  of  the  solicitor's  injunction, 
she  wrote  to  Mr.  Brailsford,  thanking  him  for  the 
money,  and  reproaching  him  for  his  opposition  to  her 
plans.  He  replied  at  great  length;  and  eventually 
they  corresponded  regularly  once  a  month,  the  family 
resigning  themselves  privately  to  Madge's  being  an 
actress,  but  telling  falsehoods  publicly  to  account  for 


>.\  Love  Among  the  Artists 

her   absence.      The   donation   of  one   hundred   pounds 
was  re]  1   next   year;   and   many  an  actress  whose 

family  heavily  burdened   instead  of  aiding  her,  envied 
Madge  her  independen 

She    wrote   i  to   Jack,    telling  him    that    all   her 

success,  and  notably  her  early  promotion  from  the  part 

r  queen  to  that  of  <  tpheli;        is  due  to  the 

method   of   l  e  which  he  had  taught  her. 

He  answi  r  a  long  delay,  with  expressions  of 

encouragem<  y  mixed  U]  h  inconsequent 

aphorisms;  but  his  letter  needed  n  and  she  did 

not  venture  to  write  ..      in,  though  she  felt  a  desire  to 
do 

This  was  the  reality  which  took  the  place  of  Madge's 
visions  of  the  life  of  an  actress. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  year  after  that  in  which  Madge  had  her  autum- 
nal glimpse  of  the  London  stage  began  with  a  Gen- 
eral Election,  followed  by  a  change  in  the  Ministry,  a 
revival  of  trade,  a  general  fancy  that  things  were 
going  to  mend,  and  a  sudden  access  of  spirit  in 
political  agitation,  commercial  enterprise,  public 
amusements,  and  private  expenditure.  The  wave 
even  reached  a  venerable  artistic  institution  called  the 
Antient  Orpheus  Society,  established  nearly  a  century 
ago  for  the  performance  of  orchestral  music,  and  since 
regarded  as  the  pioneer  of  musical  art  in  England.  It 
had  begun  by  producing  Beethoven's  symphonies:  it 
had  ended  by  producing  a  typical  collection  of  old 
fogeys,  who  pioneered  backwards  so  fast  and  so  far 
that  they  had  not  finished  shaking  their  heads  over 
the  innovations  in  the  overture  to  "William  Tell" 
when  the  rest  of  the  world  were  growing  tired  of  the 
overture  to  "Tannhauser. "  The  younger  critics  had 
introduced  a  fashion  of  treating  the  Antient  Orpheus 
as  obsolescent;  and  even  their  elders  began  to  fore- 
bode the  extinction  of  the  Society  unless  it  were 
speedily  rejuvenated  by  the  supercession  of  the 
majority  of  the  committee.  Bat  the  warnings  of  the 
press,  as  usual,  did  not  come  until  long  after  the 
public  had  begun  to  abstain  from  the  Antient  Orpheus 
concerts ;  and  as  the  Society  in  its  turn  resisted  the 
suggestions  of  the  press  until  death  or  dotage  reduced 

165 


1 66  Love  Amone  the  Artists 


.v-> 


the    conservative    majority    of    the    committee    to    a 
minority,     the    credit   of   the    Antient   Orpheus    was 
almost  past  recovery  when  reform  was  at  last  decided 
on.       When    the    new    members    of    the    rejuvena 
committee — three  of  whom  were  under  fifty — realized 
this,    they   became   as   eager   to    till    the   concert    pro- 
grammes   with    new    works   as   their  predecessors  had 
been    determined    to    exclude    them.      But   when   the 
business  of  selecting  the   new  works  came   to  be  con- 
sidered, all  was  discord.     Some  urged  the  advisability 
of  performing  the  works  of  English  composers,  a  wil- 
ful neglect  of  which  had  been  th  .e  of  the  practices 
of  the  old  committee  of  which  the  press  had  most  per- 
sistently complained.      To  this  it  wa  jected   that  in 
spite  of  the  patriotic  complaints  of  the  public 
had   shewed    their  opinion   of    English   composers   by 
specially  avoiding  the  few  concerts  to  which  they  had 
been  allowed  to  contribute.     At  last  it  was  arranged 
that  an  English  work  should  be  given  at  the  first  con- 
cert of  the             n,  and   that  care  should  be   taken  to 
neutralize  its  repellent  effect  on  the  public  by  engag- 
ing  a   young    Polish   lady,  who   had   recently  made  an 
extraordinary   success             id    as   a   pianist,    to    make 
her    first   appearance    in     England     on     the     occasion. 
Matters  being  settled  so  far,  question  now  arose  as  to 
what  the  new   English  work  should  I          Most  of  the 
Committee  had   manuscript  scores  of  their  own,  com- 
posed thirty  years  before  in  the  interval  between  leav- 
ing the  academy  and   getting  enough  teaching  to  use 
up   all   their  energy;   but   as   works   of  this  class  had 
already   been  heard  once  or  twice  by  the  public  with 
undisguised   tedium ;  and  as  each  composer  hesitated 
to    propose    his    own    opus,     the    question    was   not 


Love  Among  the  Artists  167 

immediately  answered.  Then  a  recently-elected 
member  of  the  Committee,  not  a  professional 
musician,  mentioned  a  fantasia  for  pianoforte  and 
orchestra  of  which  he  had  some  private  knowledge. 
It  was  composed,  he  said,  by  a  young  man,  a  Mr. 
Owen  Jack.  The  chairman  coughed,  and  remarked 
coldly  that  he  did  not  recollect  the  name.  A  member 
asked  bluntly  who  Mr.  Jack  was,  and  whether  anybody 
had  ever  heard  of  him.  Another  member  protested 
against  the  suggestion  of  a  fantasia,  and  declared  that 
if  this  illustrious  obscure  did  not  know  enough  about 
musical  form  to  write  a  concerto,  the  Antient  Orpheus 
Society,  which  had  subsisted  for  nearly  a  century 
without  his  assistance,  could  probably  do  so  a  little 
longer.  When  the  laughter  and  applause  which  this 
speech  evoked  had  subsided,  a  good  natured  member 
remarked  that  he  had  met  a  man  of  the  name  of  Jack 
at  somebody's  place  in  Windsor,  and  had  heard  him 
improvise  variations  on  a  song  of  the  hostess's  in  a 
rather  striking  manner.  He  therefore  seconded  the 
proposal  that  Jack's  fantasia  should  be  immediately 
examined  with  a  view  to  its  performance  by  the  Polish 
lady  at  the  next  concert.  Another  member,  not  good 
natured,  but  professionally  jealous  of  the  last  speaker 
but  one,  supported  the  proposal  on  the  ground  that 
the  notion  that  the  Society  could  get  on  high-and- 
mightily  without  ever  doing  anything  new  was  just 
what  had  brought  it  to  death's  door.  This  naturally 
elicited  a  defiant  statement  that  the  Society  had  never 
been  more  highly  esteemed  than  at  that  hour;  and  a 
debate  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which  Jack's  ability 
was  hotly  attacked  and  defended  in  turn  by  persons 
who  had  never  heard  of  him  before  that  day.     Even- 


i6S  Love  Among  the  Artists 

tually  the  member  who  had  introduced  the  subject 
obtained  permission  to  invite  Mr.  Jack  to  submit  his 
fantasia  to  the  Committee. 

At  the  next  meeting  an  indignant  member  begged 
leave  to  call  the  attention  of  his  colleagues  to  a  docu- 
ment which  had  accompanied  the  score  forwarded  in 
•    spon9e    to    the    invitation    by    which    the    Antient 

rpheus  Society  had  honored  Mr.   Owen  Jack.      It 

was  a  letter  to  the  Secretary,  in  the  following  terms:  — 

"Sir: — Herewith  you  will  find  the  instrumental 
partition  of   a  fantasia  composed   by  nie   for  pianoforte 

and  orchestra.  I  am  willing  t  ve  the  use  of  it  to 
the  Antient  Orpheus  S<<  gratuitously  for  one  cou- 

rt, on  condition  that  the   rehearsal  be  superintend. 
bv  me,  and  that,  if  I  require  it,  a  second  rehearsal  be 
held." 

The  member  said  he  would  not  dwell  on  the  propriety 
of  this  communication  to  the  foremost  musical  society 
in  Europe  from  a  minor  teaeher,  as  he  had  ascertain* 
Mr.  Jack  to  be.  It  had  been  sufficiently  rebuked  by 
the  Secretary's  reply,  despatched  alter  the  partition 
had   been  duly  examined,  to  the  ct  that  the  work, 

though  not  destitute  of  merit,  was  too  eccentric  in 
form,  and  crude  in  harmonic  structure,  to  be  suitable 
for  public  performance  at  the  concerts  of  the  Society. 
This  had  elicited  a  second  letter  from  Mr.  Jack,  of 
which  the  member  would  say  nothing,  as  he  preferred 
to  leave  it  to  speak  for  itself  and  for  the  eharacter  of 
the  writer. 


"Church  Street,  Kensington,  W. 
"Sir: — Your  criticism  was  uninvited,  and  is  value- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  169 

less  except  as  an  illustration  of  the  invincible  ignorance 
of  the  pedants  whose  mouthpiece  you  are.     I  am,  sir, 

Yours  truly, 

Owen  Jack." 


The  most  astute  diplomatist  could  not  have  written 
a  more  effective  letter  in  Jack's  favor  than  this  proved. 
The  party  of  reform  took  it  as  an  exquisite  slap  at 
their  opponents,  and  at  once  determined  to  make  the 
Secretary  smart  for  rejecting  the  work  without  the 
authority  of  the  whole  Committee.  Jack's  advocate 
produced  a  note  from  the  Polish  lady  acknowledging 
the  receipt  of  a  pianoforte  fantasia,  and  declaring  that 
she  should  be  enchanted  to  play  for  the  first  time  to 
an  English  audience  a  work  so  poetic  by  one  of  their 
own  nation.  He  explained  that  having  borrowed  a 
copy  of  the  pianoforte  part  from  a  young  lady  relative 
of  his  who  was  studying  it,  he  had  sent  it  to  the 
Polish  artist,  who  had  just  arrived  in  England.  Her 
opinion  of  it,  he  contended,  was  sufficient  to  show 
that  the  letter  of  the  secretary  was  the  result  of  an 
error  of  judgment  which  deserved  no  better  answer 
than  it  had  elicited.  The  secretary  retorted  that 
he  had  no  right  to  avail  himself  of  his  private 
acquaintance  with  the  pianist  to  influence  the  course 
of  the  Society,  and  stigmatized  Jack's  letter  as  the 
coarse  abuse  natural  to  the  vulgar  mind  of  a  self- 
assertive  charlatan.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  main- 
tained that  Jack  had  only  shewn  the  sensitiveness  of 
an  artist,  and  that  to  invite  a  composer  to  send  in  a 
work  and  then  treat  it  as  if  it  were  an  examination 
paper  filled  by  a  presumptuous  novice,  was  an 
impertinence  likely  to  bring  ridicule  as  well  as  odium 
upon  the  Antient  Orpheus.     The  senior  member,  who 


170  Love  Among  the  Artists 

occupied  the  chair,  now  declared  very  solemnly  that  he 
had  seen  the  fantasia,  and  that  it  was  one  of  those  law- 
less compositions  unhappily  :nmon  of  late  years, 
which  were  hurrying  the  beautiful  art  of  Haydn  and 
Mozart  into  the  abyss  of  modern  sensationalism.     I  lere- 

upon  someone  remarked  that  the  gentleman  had  fre- 
quently spoken  of  the  works  of  Wagner  in  the  same 
terms,  although  they  all  knew  that  Richard  Wagner 
was  the  greatest  composer  of  that  <r  any  other  age. 
This  assertion  was  vehemently  repudiated  by  some, 
and   loudly  cheered   by  othei  In  the   hubbub  which 

followed,  Jack's   car.  lentihed  with   that  of 

Wagner;  and  a  motion  to  set  aside  the  unauthorized 
rejection  of  the  fantasia  was  carried  by  a  majority  of 
the  admirers  of  the  Prussian  composer,  not  one  of 
Whom  knew  or  cared  a  straw  about  tin-  English  one. 

"I  am  glad  we  have  won  the  day,"    aid  Mr.  Phipson, 

the  prop<>  '  this  motion,  to  a  friend,  as  the  meeting 

br<  >ke  up;  "but  we  have  certainly  experienced  the 
truth  of   Mary'8  remark   that  this  Jack  creates  nothing 

:t  discord  in  real  life,  whatever  he  may  do  in 
music.  " 

jack  at  first  refused  to  have  anything  further  to  do 
with  the  Atient  Orpheus;  but  as  it  was  evident  that 
his   refusal   would   harm    n  y   except   himself,     he 

yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  Mary  Sutherland,  and 
consented  to  make  use  of  the  opportunity  she  had, 
through  Mr.  Phipson,  procured  for  him.  S  »  the 
negotiation  proceeded;  and  at  last,  one  comfortless 
wet  spring  morning,  Jack  got  out  of  an  omnibus  in 
Piccadilly,  and  walked  through  the  mud  to  St.  James's 
Hall,  where,  in  the  gloomy  rooms  beneath  the 
orchestra,   he  found  a    crowd  of  about   eighty  men, 


Love  Among  the  Artists  171 

chatting,  hugging  themselves,  and  stamping  because 
of  the  cold ;  stooping  over  black  bags  and  boxes  con- 
taining musical  instruments;  or  reluctantly  unwinding 
woollen  mufflers  and  unbuttoning  great  coats.  He 
passed  them  into  a  lower  room,  where  he  found  three 
gentlemen  standing  in  courtly  attitudes  before  a 
young  lady  wrapped  in  furs,  with  a  small  head,  light 
brown  hair,  and  a  pale  face,  rather  toil  worn.  She 
received  them  with  that  natural  air  of  a  princess  in 
her  own  right  which  is  so  ineffectually  striven  for  by 
the  ordinary  princess  in  other  people's  rights.  As 
she  spoke  to  the  gentlemen  in  French,  occasionally 
helping  them  to  understand  her  by  a  few  words  of 
broken  English,  she  smiled  occasionally,  apparently 
more  from  kindness  than  natural  gaiety,  for  her  fea- 
tures always  relapsed  into  an  expression  of  patient  but 
not  unhappy  endurance.  Near  her  sat  an  old  foreign 
lady,  brown  skinned,  tall,  and  very  grim. 

Jack  advanced  a  few  steps  into  the  room ;  glanced 
at  the  gentlemen ;  and  took  a  long  look  at  the  younger 
lady,  who,  like  the  rest,  had  had  her  attention  arrested 
by  his  impressive  ugliness.  He  scrutinized  her  so 
openly  that  she  turned  away  displeased,  and  a  little 
embarrassed.  Two  of  the  gentlemen  stared  at  him 
stiffly.  The  third  came  forward,  and  said  with  polite 
severity,  "What  is  your  business  here,  sir?" 

Jack  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  wrinkling  his 
face  hideously.  "I  am  Jack,"  he  said,  in  the  brassiest 
tone  of  his  powerful  voice.     "Who  are  you?" 

"Oh!"  said  the  gentleman,  relaxing  a  little.  "I 
beg  your  pardon.  I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
you  by  sight,  Mr.  Jack.  My  name  is  Manlius,  at  your 
service."     Mr.    Manlius    was  the    conductor    of    the 


172  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Antient  Orpheus  orchestra.  He  was  a  learned 
musician,    generally   respected   because   he   had  given 

instruction  to  members  of  the  Royal  family,  and,  when 
conducting,  never  allowed  his  orchestra  to  forget  the 
restraint  due  to  the  presence  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
in  the  sofa  stalls. 

Jack  bowed.  Mr.  Manlius  considered  whether  he 
should  introduce  the  composer  to  the  young  lady. 
Whilst  he  hesitated,  a  trampling  overhead  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  sounding  of  a  note  first  on  the  piano- 
forte and  then  on  the  oboe,  instantly  followed  by  the 
din  of  an  indescribable  discord  of  fifths  from  innumer- 
able strings,  varied  by  Irrelevant  chromatic  scales 
from  the  wood  wind,  and  a  doleful  timing  of  slid- 
from   the    bras&       Jack's    -  mcd.       Troubling 

himself  no  further  about  Mr.  Manlius,  he  went  out 
through  a  door  leading  to  the  stalls,  where  he  found 
a  knot  of  old  gentlemen  disputing.  One  of  them 
immediately  whispered  something  to  the  others;  and 
they  continued  their  disc  a  in  a  lower  tone.      Jack 

looked  at  the  orchestra  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
returned  to  the  room  he  had  left,  where  the  elder 
lady  was  insisting  in  French  that  the  pianoforte 
fantasia    should    be    rehearsed    I  •    anything    else, 

as  she  was  not  going  to  wait  in  the  cold  all  day. 
Mr.  Manlius  assured  her  that  he  had  anticipated 
her  suggestion,  and  should  act  upon  it  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

"It  is  oil  the*  same  thinks,"  said  the  young  lady  in 
English.  Then  in  French.  "Even  if  you  begin  with 
the  fantasia,  Monsieur,  I  shall  assuredly  wait  to  hear 
for  the  first  time  your  famous  band  perform  in  this 
ancient  hall." 


i  ( 


Love  Among  the  Artists  173 

Manlius  bowed.  When  he  straightened  himself 
again,  he  found  Jack  standing  at  his  elbow.  "Allow 
me  to  present  to  you  Monsieur  Jack,"  he  said. 

It  is  for  Monsieur  Jacques  to  allow,"  she  replied. 
The  poor  artist  is  honored  by  the  presence  of  the 
illustrious  English  composer." 

Jack  nodded  gravely  as  acknowledging  that  the 
young  woman  expressed  herself  becomingly.  Manlius 
grinned  covertly,  and  proposed  that  they  should  go 
upon  the  orchestra,  as  the  band  was  apt  to  get  out  of 
humor  when  too  much  time  was  wasted.  She  rose  at 
once,  and  ascended  the  steps  on  the  arm  of  the  con- 
ductor. She  was  received  with  an  encouraging  clap- 
ping of  hands  and  tapping  of  fiddle  backs.  Jack 
followed  with  the  elder  lady,  who  sat  down  on  the  top 
stair,  and  began  to  knit. 

"If  you  wish  to  conduct  the  rehearsal,"  said  Manlius 
politely  to  Jack,  "you  are,  of  course,  quite  welcome  to 
do  so." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jack.  "I  will."  Manlius,  who 
had  hardly  expected  him  to  accept  the  offer,  retired  to 
the  pianoforte,  and  prepared  to  turn  over  the  leaves 
for  the  player. 

"I  think  I  can  play  it  from  memory,"  she  said  to 
him,  "unless  Monsieur  Jacques  puts  it  all  out  of  my 
head.  Judging  by  his  face,  it  is  certain  that  he  is  not 
very  patien— —     Ah !  Did  I  not  say  so?" 

Jack  had  rapped  the  desk  sharply  with  his  stick, 
and  was  looking  balefnlly  at  the  men,  who  did  not 
seem  in  any  hurry  to  attend  to  him.  He  put  down 
the  stick ;  stepped  from  the  desk ;  and  stooped  to  the 
conductor's  ear. 

I  mentioned,"  he  said,  "that  some  of  the  parts 


1 1 


i;i  Love  Among  the  Artists 

ought  to  be  given  to  the  men  to  study  before  rehearsal. 
I  las  that  been  clone?" 

Manlius   smiled.      "My  dear  sir,"  he   said,  "I  need 

hardly  tell  you  that  players  of  such  standing  as  the 

members  of   the  Antient   Orphens  orchestra  do  not 

to  have  suggestions  of  that  kind  offered  to  them. 

Yon  ha-  cause  to  be  uneasy.      They  can  play  any- 

thing— absolutely  anything,  at  sight." 

fack  looked  black,  and   returned  to  his  desk  without 

a   WOl  H  vc   one   more   rap  with   his   stick,  and 

tn.      The  players  were  attentive,  but  many  of  them 

tried  not  to  look  F  lack  conducted 

under  some  restraint,  a]  atly  striving  to  repress  a 
•  ndency  to  •  "  vagant  gesticulation.  Then,  as 
certain  combinations  and  progressions  sounded  strain 

and  ht    bursts  Of    Laughter  were   heard. 

Suddenly  the  first  clarinettist,  with  an  exclamation  i 

impatience,  put  D  his  instrument. 

"Well?*1  shouted  fack.     The  music  <         d. 

"I  can't  play  that,"  trine*         hortly. 

"(  ay  it-"  said  Jack,  with  suppressed  rage, 

to  the  md  clarinettist. 

"X..."  said  he.     "N        ly  could  play  it." 
That  e    has    been   played;    and  it   must  be 

played.      H  has  been  pi  union  soldier." 

"If  a  common  soldier  even  attempted  it,  much  less 
played  it,"  said  the  first  clarinettist,  with  sonic  con- 
temptuous indignation  at  what  he  considered  an  evident 
falsehood,  "he   must   have   been   drunk."     There  was 

general  titter  at  this. 

jack  visibly  wrestled  with  himself  for  a  moment. 
Then,  with  a  gleam  of  humor  like  a  flash  of  sunshine 
through  a    black  thundercloud,   he    said:      "You   are 


Love  Among  the  Artists  175 

right.  He  was  drunk. "  The  whole  band  roared  with 
laughter. 

"Well,  /am  not  drunk,"  said  the  clarinettist,  folding 
his  arms. 

"But  will  you  not  just   try  wh "     Here   Jack, 

choked  by  the  effort  to  be  persuasive  and  polite,  burst 
out  raging:  "It  can  be  done.  It  shall  be  done.  It 
must  be  done.  You  are  the  best  clarinet  player  in 
England.  I  know  what  you  can  do. "  And  Jack  shook 
his  fists  wildly  at  the  man  as  if  he  were  accusing  him 
of  some  infamous  crime.  But  the  compliment  was 
loudly  applauded,  and  the  man  reddened,  not  alto- 
gether displeased.  A  cornist  who  sat  near  him  said 
soothingly  in  an  Irish  accent,  "Aye,  do,  Joe.     Try  it." 

"You  will:  you  can,"  shouted  Jack  reassuringly, 
recovering  his  self-command.  "Back  to  the  double 
bar.  Now!"  The  music  recommenced;  and  the 
clarinettist,  overborne,  took  up  his  instrument,  and, 
when  the  passage  was  reached,  played  it  easily, 
greatly  to  his  own  astonishment.  The  brilliancy  of 
the  effect,  too,  raised  him  for  a  time  into  a  prominence 
which  rivalled  that  of  the  pianist.  The  orchestra 
positively  interrupted  the  movement  to  applaud  it; 
and  Jack  joined  in  with  high  good  humor. 

"If  you  are  uneasy  about  it,"  said  he,  with  an 
undisguised  chuckle,  "I  can  hand  it  over  to  the 
violins." 

"Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  said  the  clarinettist.  "Now 
I've  got  it,  I'll  keep  it." 

Jack  rubbed  his  nose  until  it  glowed  like  a  coal;  and 
the  movement  proceeded  without  another  stoppage, 
the  men  now  seeing  that  Jack  was  in  his  right  place. 

But  when  a  theme  marked  andante  cantabile,  which 


iy<)  Love  Among  the  Artists 

formed  the  middle  section  of  the  fantasia,  was  com- 
menced by  the  pianist,  Jack  turned  to  her;  said 
,  quicker.  Plus  Vtte";  and  began  to  mark 
his  beat  by  striking  the  desk.  She  looked  at  him 
-ly;  played  a  few  bars  in  the  time  indicated  by 
him;  and  then  threw  up  her  hands  and  Stopped. 

"I cannot,"  she  exclaimed.     "I  must  playit  more 

slowly  or  not  at  all.  " 

*"i  inly,  it  shall  be  slower  if  you  desire  it,"  said 

the   eld<  ly  from   the  Bte]    ,      Jack   looked  at   her  as 

he   &         times  li    >ked  at    Mrs.  Simpson.      "Certainly  it 

shall    not    be    slower,  it"   all    tl.  ired    it,"  he 

.id,  in  well  pronounced   but  ba:  asly  un-rammat- 

ical    French.      UG  i      tk\    and    take  the   time    from    my 

at" 

The    P<  dy   shook   her  head;   folded   her  hands 

in   her  lap;     ind   looked   ;  .it  the   music  b- 

her.     There  was  a  moment  ace,  during  which 

lack,  thus  mntely  i  ired  at  her  with  distort' 

IS.        M.  [OSC    in ■■  ly.       Jack    step; 

►wn  from  the  desk;  handed  him  the  stick;  and  said 
in  a  smothered  voic  good  <         ;h  to  conduct  this 

lion    of    the     I  When     i>iy    music 

recommences,  I  will  return." 

Manlius  took  the  stick  and  mounted  the  desk,  the 
orchestra  receiving  him  with  applause.  In  the  midst 
of  it  Jack  went  out,  giving  the  pianist  a  terrible  look 
as  he  passed  her,  and  transferring  it  to  her  companion, 
who  raised  her  eyebrows  and  shoulders  contemptuously. 

Manlius  was  not  the  man  to  impose  his  own  ideas  of 
a  composition  on  a  refractory  artist;  and  though  he 
was  privately  disposed  to  agree  with  Jack  that  the 
Polish  lady  was  misjudging-   the  speed  of  the  move- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  177 

ment,  he  obediently  followed  her  playing  with  his 
beat.  But  he  soon  lost  his  first  impression,  and  began 
to  be  affected  by  a  dread  lest  anyone  should  make  a 
noise  in  the  room.  He  moved  his  stick  as  quietly  as 
possible,  and  raised  his  left  hand  as  if  to  still  the 
band,  who  were,  however,  either  watching  the  pianist 
intently  or  playing  without  a  trace  of  the  expert  off- 
handedness  which  they  had  affected  at  first.  The 
pleasure  of  listening  made  Manlius  forget  to  follow  the 
score.  When  he  roused  himself  and  found  his  place, 
he  perceived  that  the  first  horn  player  was  altering  a 
passage  completely,  though  very  happily.  Looking 
questioningly  in  that  direction,  he  saw  Jack  sitting 
beside  the  man  with  a  pencil  in  his  hand.  Manlius 
observed  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  an  expressive 
face  and  remarkable  eyes,  and  was  not,  as  he  had 
previously  seemed,  unmitigatedly  ugly.  Meanwhile 
the  knot  of  old  gentlemen  in  the  stalls,  who  had 
previously  chattered  subduedly,  became  quite  silent; 
and  a  few  of  them  closed  their  eyes  rapturously. 
The  lady  on  the  steps  alone  did  not  seem  to  care 
about  the  music.  At  last  the  flow  of  melody  waned 
and  broke  into  snatches.  The  pianoforte  seemed  to 
appeal  to  the  instruments  to  continue  the  song.  A 
melancholy  strain  from  the  violas  responded  hope- 
lessly; but  the  effect  of  this  was  marred  by  a  stir  in 
the  orchestra.  The  trombone  and  trumpet  players, 
hitherto  silent,  were  taking  up  their  instruments  and 
pushing  up  their  moustaches.  The  drummer,  after 
some  hasty  screwing  round  his  third  drum,  poised  his 
sticks;  and  a  supernumerary  near  him  rose,  cymbals 
in  hand;  fixed  his  eye  on  Manlius,  and  apparently 
stood  ready  to  clap  the  head  of  the  trumpet  player  in 


i;S  Love   Among  the   Artists 

front  of  him  as  a  lady  claps  a  moth  flying  from  a  wool- 
len curtain.      Manlius   1<  I    at  the  SCOre  as  if  he  did 

not  quite  understand   the        |   el.  ddenly,  as  the 

violas  k  shunted  in  a  startling         i  ,  "Let 

it  be  an  avalancl.  Fr<  m  the  top  to  bottom  of  the 
Himalayas";  and  rushed  to  the  conductor's  desk. 
Manlius  made  way  for  him  |  pitately;  and  a  tre- 
mend  sound  "Louder," 

k.     "I.  and  o         tone. 

I  >ut  with  it  like  fifty  million  d  Is."  And  he  led  the 
m  tvement  at  a  mercil<  ed.        he  pianist  looked 

bewildered,  like  tin  nd,  most  of  whom  lost  their 
pla        after  the  I  but  when  the  turn  of 

A\  pi  faring  at 

him,   and  was  swept  into    hi  without    clearly 

knowing  how.     It   was  an    ina  >und. 

'  ray  m<  intily  given  oul  .  or 

by  the  sti  truments,  wer  out 

immediat  '  by         nets,    harm  1   in 

thirds  with  the  most   ingei  ulgarit 

ilely  executed  by  1  Lish  lady,  were  uncouthly 

imitated   by   th  uble  Themes   constructed 

like  ha'  ith   choruses   were   introduced  instead  of 

orthodox  "sr.  Theold  men  in  the  stalls 

groaned  and  pr  The  Polish  lady,  incommoded 

by  the  capricious  and  often  excessive  speed  required 
of  her,  held  on  gallantly,  Jack  all  the  time  grinding;' 
his  teeth;  dancing;  gesticulating;  and  by  turns  shsh- 
sh-shing  at  the  orchestra,  or  shouting  to  them  for 
more  tone  and  less  noise.  E  ven  the  lady  on  the  steps 
had  begun  to  nod  to  the  impetuous  rhythm,  when  the 
movement  ended  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun;  and 
all    the    players    rose    to    their    feet,    laughing    and 


Love  Among  the  Artists  179 

applauding  heartily.  Manlius,  from  whose  mind  the 
fantasia  had  banished  all  prejudice  as  to  Jack's  rank 
as  a  musician,  shook  his  hand  warmly.  The  Polish 
lady,  her  face  transfigured  by  musical  excitement, 
offered  her  hand  too.  Jack  took  it  and  held  it,  saying 
abruptly,  "Listen  to  me.  You  were  quite  right;  and 
I  am  a  fool.  I  did  not  know  what  there  was  in  my 
own  music,  and  would  have  spoiled  it  if  you  had  not 
prevented  me.  You  are  a  great  player,  because  you 
get  the  most  beautiful  tone  possible  from  every  note 
you  touch,  and  you  make  every  phrase  say  all  that  it 
was  meant  to  say,  and  more.  You  are  an  angel.  I 
would  rather  hear  you  play  scales  than  hear  myself 
play  sonatas.  And" — here  he  lowered  his  voice  and 
drew  her  aside — "I  rely  on  you  to  make  my  work 
succeed  at  the  concert.  Manlius  will  conduct  the 
band;  but  you  must  conduct  Manlius.  It  is  not 
enough  to  be  a  gentleman  and  a  contrapuntist  in 
order  to  conduct.     You  comprehend?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  I  understand  perfectly,  perfectly. 
I  will  do  my  best.  I  shall  be  inspired.  How  mag- 
nificent it  is!" 

"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  one  of  the 
old  gentlemen,  advancing.  "Myself  and  colleagues 
have  been  greatly  struck  by  your  work.  I  am 
empowered  to  say  on  their  behalf  that  whatever 
difference  of  opinion  there  may  be  among  us  as  to  the 
discretion  with  which  you  have  employed  your  powers, 
of  the  extraordinary  nature  of  those  powers  there  can 
no  longer  be  a  doubt;  and  we  are  thoroughly 
gratified  at  having  chosen  for  performance  a  work 
which  displays  so  much  originality  and  talent  as  your 
fantasia." 


lo  1 .< >ve  Aiiion^  the  Artists 

"T  ■:    ••<    rs  aid  Jack,  looking  steadily  at  him, 

"I    might   have  been  glad  t<>  hear  you  say  so.     At 

esent  tlie  time  for  compliments  is  past,  unless  you 

wish  to  congratulate  me  on  the  private  interest  that 
lias  gained  my  work  a  hearing.  My  talent  and 
originality  hav<         a  my  chiei  les  here." 

"Are   you   not  a   little   hasty"'  said   the  gentleman, 
diseoneert'  "Success  comes  late   in    London;    and 

v    l  are  still,  it   I  d  .  comparatively  young 

man." 

"I  am  not  old  enough  to  harp  on  1       g  comparatively 

young.  I  am  thirty-four  years  old;  and  if  I  had 
ad  I  any  other  pi  D  than  that  of  composer  of 

music,  I  should  huv<  rning  a  I  Stable  liveli- 

hood by  this  time.  As  it  is,  I  have  never  made  a 
farthing  by  my  com]  I  don't  blame  those 

who   have    Si  :i    me    and    the   public:    their 

nee  is  their  misfortune,  and  not  their  fault.    But 
w  that  I  have  come  to  light  by  a  chance  in  spite  of 
their  teeth,  I  am  not  in  the  humor  to  exchange  pretty 

hes  with  them.      Understand,  sir:    I   do  not  mean 

to  rebufl  sonally.        it  as  for  your  colleagues, 

tell  them  that   it  -  not  become  them  to  pretend  to 

acknowle*  Spontaneously   what    I   have   just,    after 

many  hard  y  .  forced  them  to  admit.  Look  at 
those  friends  of  yours  shaking  their  heads  over  my 
score  there.  They  have  heard  my  music;  but  they  do 
not  know  what  to  say  until  they  set  it.  Would  you 
like  me  to  believe  that  they  are  admiring  it 

"I  am  confident  that  they  cannot  help  doing  so." 
"They  are  shewing  one  another  why  it  ought  not 
to  have   been   written — hunting    out   my  consecutive 
fifths  and  sevenths,   and  my  false  relations — looking 


Love  Among  the  Artists  181 

for  my  first  subject,  my  second  subject,  my  working 
out,  and  the  rest  of  the  childishness  that  could  be 
taught  to  a  poodle.  Don't  they  wish  they  may  find 
them?" 

The  gentleman  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  continue 
the  conversation.  "I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  the 
orchestra,"  he  said  after  a  pause. 

"No,  I  am  not,"  said  Jack.  "They  are  over 
civilized.  They  are  as  much  afraid  of  showing  their 
individuality  as  if  they  were  common  gentlemen.  You 
cannot  handle  a  musical  instrument  with  kid  gloves 
on.  However,  they  did  better  than  I  hoped.  They  are 
at  least  not  coarse.     That  young  woman  is  a  genius. ' ' 

"Ye-es.  Almost  a  genius.  She  is  young,  of  course. 
She  has  not  the — I  should  call  it  the  gigantic  power 
and  energy  of  such  a  player,  for  instance,  as " 


a 


Pshaw!"  said  Jack,  interrupting  him.  "I,  or  any- 
body else,  can  get  excited  with  the  swing  of  a  Chopin's 
polonaise,  and  thrash  it  out  of  the  piano  until  the 
room  shakes.  But  she !  You  talk  of  making  a  piano- 
forte sing — a  child  that  can  sing  itself  can  do  that. 
But  she  can  make  it  speak.  She  has  eloquence,  the 
first  and  last  quality  of  a  great  player,  as  it  is  of  a 
great  man.  The  finale  of  the  fantasia  is  too  coarse 
for  her:  it  does  violence  to  her  nature.  It  was  written 
to  be  played  by  a  savage — like  me. ' ' 

"Oh,  undoubtedly,  undoubtedly!     She  is  a  remark- 
able   player.     I    did    not    for    a    moment  intend   to 

convey "     Here    Manlius    rapped    his  desk;    and 

Jack,  with  a  unceremonious  nod  to  his  interlocutor, 
left  the  platform.  As  he  passed  the  door  leading  to 
the  public  part  of  the  hall,  he  heard  the  voice  of  the 
elder  lady. 


iSj  L  ve  Among  the  Artists 


& 


"My  child,  they  seek  to  deceive  you.     This  Monsieur 

Jacques,    with    wh<  you    are    to     make     your 

debut  here,  is  he  famous  in  England?     Not  at  all.     My 
G     l!  he  is  an  unknown  man.  " 
"!        tranquil,    mother.      He     will    not     long-    be 


unknown. 


Jack   O]  '    the   door   a  little  way;   thrust   his  face 

through;         I    smiled    pleasantly   at   the   piani  Her 

mother,  seeing   her   start,    I  ind   and  saw  him 

grimacing  within  a  y         :  her. 

"Ah,    Lord    Jesus!"    she  imed    in    German, 

m  him.     Hechv         L,  and  abruptly  shut 

himself  OUt   of   Ikt   vi<  g  uni- 

"Cori  >lan"  overture  sounded  from  the  orchestra,     The 

old  .tleman      w:.         had      O  him     had 

rejoined  tl 

"Well,"  said   one   of  them:   "is  your  man  delighted 

with  himself?" 

"N-no,  I  cannot  .say  that  he  is — or  rather  perha] 
he  is  t'>o  much  i        I  am  sorry  I        y  that  he  appears 
to  ither  n  •  bis  earl      lifficultit 

He  is  certainly  not  an  agreeable  person  to 

t<>.   " 

"What  did  you    expect-  nother  gentleman 

coldly.     "A  man  wt  mi    ic  to  be  the  vehicle 

of  his  own  coarse  humor,  and   shows  by  his  method  of 
doing    it    an    ignorant    contempt     for    t  by 

which    the    great  com]  '    blished    order  in   the 

chaos  of  sounds,  is  not   likely  to  display  a  court' 
disposition  and  refined  n  in  the  ordinary  business 

of  life." 

"I   assure    you,    Professor,'    said  a  third,   who  had 
the  score  of  the  fantasia  open  on  his  knees,  "this  chap 


Love  Among  the  Artists  183 

must  know  a  devil  of  a  lot.  He  plays  old  Harry  with 
the  sonata  form ;  but  he  must  do  it  on  purpose,  you 
know,  really." 

The  gentleman  addressed  as  Professor  looked 
severely  and  incredulously  at  the  other.  "I  really 
cannot  listen  to  such  things  whilst  they  are  playing 
Beethoven,"  he  said.  "I  have  protested  against  Mr. 
Jack  and  his  like ;  and  my  protest  has  passed  unheeded. 
I  wash  my  hands  of  the  consequences.  The  Antient 
Orpheus  Society  will  yet  acknowledge  that  I  did  well 
when  I  counselled  it  to  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his 
works."  He  turned  away;  sat  down  on  a  stall  a  little 
way  off;  and  gave  all  his  attention  ostentatiously  to 
"Coriolan." 

The  pianist  came  presently  and  sat  near  him.  The 
others  quickly  surrounded  her;  but  she  did  not  speak 
to  them,  and  shewed  by  her  attitude  that  she  did  not 
wish  to  be  spoken  to.  Her  mother,  who  did  not  care 
for  Coriolan,  and  wanted  to  go  home,  knitted  and 
looked  appealingly  at  her  from  time  to  time,  not 
venturing  to  express  her  impatience  before  so  many 
members  of  the  Antient  Orpheus  Society.  At  last 
Manlius  came  down ;  and  the  whole  party  rose  and 
went  into  the  performers'  room. 

"How  do  you  find  our  orchestra?"  said  Manlius  to 
her  as  she  took  up  her  muff. 

"It  is  magnificent,"  die  replied.  "So  refined,  so 
quiet,  so  convenable!  It  is  like  the  English  gentle- 
man." Manlius  smirked.  Jack,  who  had  reappeared 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  group  with  his  hat  on — a  des- 
perately ill-used  hat — added : 

"A  Lithuanian  or  Hungarian  orchestra  could  not 
play  like  that,  eh?" 


1 84  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"No,  truly,"  said  the  Polish  lady,  with  a  little  shrug. 
"I  do  not  think  they  could." 
"Von  Hatter  us,*'  said  Manlius  bowing.     Jack  began 

to  latlgh.      The    Polish    lady    hastily  made    her   adic 

and  went  out  into  Piccadilly,  wh<  cab  was  brought 

Her   m  >ther  got   in;  and   she   was   about 
follow  when  .she  heard  Jack's  v  ■.,  at  her  elbow. 

"  M  .;.•  I  some  music?" 

14 If  you  will  ns.  Monsieur." 

"<xood.      What  direction  shall   I  give  your  driver?" 
"F — f — yon  call  it  F  icrre- " 

"Fiteroy  Square,"  shouted    Jack    to  the  cabman. 

The    hansom     went   oil;    and    he.    runnin.  .         ly 

through  the  mud  toa]  Qg  Hammersmith  omnibr. 

which   was   full   inside,    climbed   to   the   roof,  and  was 
borne  away  in  the  rain. 


CHAPTER   X 

It  was  a  yearly  custom  of  the  Antient  Orpheus 
Society  to  give  what  they  called  a  soiree,  to  which  they 
invited  all  the  celebrated  persons  who  were  at  all  likely 
to  come.  These  meetings  took  place  at  a  house  in 
Harley  Street.  Large  gilt  tickets,  signed  by  three  of 
the  committee,  were  sent  to  any  distinguished  foreign 
composers  who  happened  to  be  in  London,  as  well  as 
to  the  president  of  the  Royal  Academy,  the  musical 
Cabinet  Minister  (if  there  was  one),  the  popular 
tragedian  of  the  day,  and  a  few  other  privileged 
persons.  The  rest  had  little  cards  of  invitation  from 
the  members,  who  were  each  entitled  to  introduce  a 
few  guests. 

To  the  one  of  these  entertainments  next  following 
the  fantasia  concert  came  a  mob  of  amateurs,  and  a 
select  body  of  pianists,  singers,  fiddlers,  painters, 
actors  and  journalists.  The  noble  vice-president  of 
the  society,  assisted  by  two  of  the  committee, 
received  the  guests  in  a  broad  corridor  which  had 
been  made  to  resemble  a  miniature  picture  gallery. 
The  guests  were  announced  by  two  Swiss  waiters, 
who  were  supposed  to  be  able  to  pronounce  foreign 
names  properly  because  they  could  not  pronounce 
English  ones.  Over  one  name  on  a  gilt  ticket,  that 
of  a  young  lady,  they  broke  down ;  and  she  entered 
unannounced  with  her  mother.  After  her  came  a 
member  and  his  party  of  four:  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Phipson, 

185 


[86  Love  Among  the  Artists 


b 


Mr.   Charles  Sutherland,  Miss   Sutherland,  and  Mr. 
Adrian    I!  ien   other   members  with  their 

ien  the  last  of  ti.  I     kets,  Mr.  Owen 

Jack,  win-  presented  the  novelty  of  a 

black  silk  handkerchi<  d  round  the  neek  with  the 

bow  under  1:         .  ht  car. 

The-   company   was  crowded   into   tw  :s. 

There  \  man  re  gu  than  -  aid   tho 

who  round  th<        Lis 

What  '   '  hey  could 

by     lcanim.  QSt     them.        M    :v     Sul  aid     V 

•    d   on    the   end   of   a   sett<  hich    supported    four 

her   |  .  i  tnmodated  tv. 

ly. 

,4W<  ]  -   k,  coming  behind  the  settee. 

"Wed,"  ech  ry.     l*Whj         you  i 

"For  the  asual  reason — I  worn 

ic.     I  could  not  fin  studs,  d 

anything.     I  will  endure  M  m  no  longer. 

Next  week    I 

a  ha\  en   thrc  i    within  the 

last  two  y«  I  wish  you  would  really  leave  Church 

,4So   you  have  tx  aching  anytime  these  fifty 

it     I     must    certainly    do    so:     tlie     woman 

is     unendurable.  .ere    goes     Charli-  lie     looks 

quite   a   man,    like   the  rest  of  us,  in  his  swallow-tail 

C 

'lie  looks  and  is  insufferably  self-conscious.     How 
wded   the  rooms  a:  They  ought  to  give    their 

■    in    St.    James's    Hall    as    well    as   their 
concerts. " 

"They  never  did  and  never  will  do  anything  as  it 


Love  Among  the  Artists  187 

ought  to  be  done.     Where's  your  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend?" 

4 'Whom  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Jack?" 

"What  color  is  your  dress?" 

"Sea  green.     Why?" 

"Nothing.     I  was  admiring  it  just  now." 

"Does  my  guide,  philosopher,  et  cetera,  mean  Mr. 
Herbert?" 

"Yes,  as  you  know  perfectly  well.  You  are  not 
above  giving  yourself  airs  occasionally.  Come,  where 
is  he?     Why  is  he  not  by  your  side?" 

"I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure.  He  came  in  with  us. 
Charlie." 

"Well?"  said  Charlie,  who  was  beginning  to  stand 
on  his  manhood.  "What  are  you  shouting  at  me  for? 
Oh,  how  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Jack?" 

"Where  is  Adrian?"  said  Mary. 

"In  the  next  room,  of  course." 

"Why  of  course?"  said  Jack. 

"Because  Miss  Spitsneezncough — or  whatever  her 
unpronounceable  name  may  be — is  there.  If  I  were 
you,  Mary,  I  should  look  rather  closely  after  Master 
Adrian's  attentions  to  the  fair  Polack. " 

"Hush.  Pray  do  not  talk  so  loud,  Charlie." 
Charlie  turned  on  his  heel,  and  strolled  away,  button- 
ing on  a  white  glove  with  a  negligent  air. 

"Come  into  the  next  room,"  said  Jack. 
Thank  you.     I  prefer  to  stay  where  I  am." 
;Come,    Mrs.    Obstinate.      I   want    to  see  the  fair 
Polack  too:  I  love  her  to  distraction.     You  shall  see 
Mister  Herbert  supplanting  me  in  her  affections." 

"I  shall  stay  with  Mrs.  Phipson.  Do  not  let  me 
detain  you,  if  you  wish  to  go." 


[88  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"You  are  going  to  be  ill-natured  and  spoil  our 
evening,  eh?" 

Mary  suppr<  '    -       >:clamation  of  impatience,  and 

rose.       "It"     you  insist   on    it,    of  course    I    will   come. 

Mrs.  Phipson:  I  am  ^r<>i:  walk  through  the  rooms 
with  Mr.  Jack." 

Mrs.    Phipson,  from   mere   habit,  looked  doubtful 
the  propriety  of  th        rrangement;  but  Jack  walked 

oil  with  Mary  b<  anything  further  pass*          In  the 

next  room  t:         I  und  a  d                      vd  and  a  very  warm 

atmosphei  A  viol:  I  l  I  tuning  his  instrument 
near  the  pian<  tt  which  the  young  Polish  lady 

sat.  Close  '  '  was  Adrian  Herbert,  looking  intently 
at  her. 

"Aha!"  said   Jack,    following  hi  mpanion's  look, 

Mister  Adrian's  thoughts  have  come  to  an  anchor  at 
last."     Ashe  music  began. 

"What   are   th(  ing?"  said   Mary  with  affected 

indifferent 

MTh<  S  »nata." 

"<  »h!     I  am 

"A:         :,  indeed      What  a  thing  it  is  to  be  fond  of 

music!  Do  you  know  that  we  shall  have  to  stand 
here  mumchancc  for  the  next  twenty  minutes  listening 
to  them'" 

"Surely  if  I  can  enjoy  the  Kreutzer  Sonata,  you  can. 
You  are  only  pretending  to  be  unmusical." 

"I  wish  they  had  chosen  something  shorter.  How- 
ever, since  we  are  here,  we  had  better  hold  our 
tongues  and  listen." 

The  Sonata  proceeded;  and  Adrian  listened,  rapt. 
He  did  not  join  in  the  applause  between  the  move- 
ments: it  jarred  on  him. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  189 


1  i  ■ 


it 
1 1 1 


Why  don't  you  teach  yourself  to  play  like  that?" 
said  Jack  to  Mary. 

"I  suppose  because  I  have  no  genius,"  she  replied, 
not  pleased  by  the  question. 

"Genius!  Pshaw!  What  are  you  clapping  your 
hands  for?" 

"You  seem  to  be  in  a  humor  for  asking  unnecessary 
questions  to-night,  Mr.  Jack.  I  applaud  Herr  Josefs 
because  I  admire  his  playing." 

'And  Mademoiselle.      How  do  you  like  her?'* 
She  is  very  good,  of  course.     But  I  really  do  not 
see  that  she  is  so  much  superior  to  other  pianists  as 
you  seem  to  consider  her.     I  enjoy  Josefs'    playing 
more  than  hers." 

"Indeed,"  said  Jack.  "Ho!  Ho!  Do  you  see  that 
hoary-headed  villain  looking  across  at  us?  That 
is  the  man  who  protested  against  my  fantasia  as  a 
work  of  the  devil;  and  now  he  is  coming  to  ask  me 
to  play. ' ' 

"And  will  you  play?" 

"Yes.     I  promised  Miss  Szczympliga  that  I  would." 

"Then  you  had  better  take  me  back  to  Mrs. 
Phipson. " 

"What!     You  will  not  wait  and  listen  to  me?" 

"It  cannot  possibly  matter  to  you  whether  I  listen 
or  not.     I  cannot  stand  here  alone." 

"Then  come  back  to  Mrs.  Phipson.  I  will  not 
play." 

"Now  pray  do  not  be  so  disagreeable,  Mr.  Jack.  I 
wish  to  go  back  because  no  one  wants  me  here." 

"Either  you  will  stay  where  you  are,  or  I  will  not 
play." 

I    shall    do    as    I    please,    Mr.   Jack.      You  have 


t  < 


190  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Mademoisell  pmplica  to  play  for.     I  cannot  stay 

here  alone. " 

"Mr.  H         rt  will  take  care  of  you. " 
"I  do  d  I  d  disturb  Mr.  Herbert." 

"Well,  Hush! — if  you 

call  him  Charli        >ud  here,  mlky.     Mr. 

. 

•      •:    tter?"  said  ratefully.    Jack 

hai  M         to  him  and  prt        tly  went  to  the 

])i.         it  the  invil   I  >ld  gentleman  he  had 

at,   wh< i  w  •    bis  coat  as 

one  of  th(  lent     1  Ec  had 

mposed  a  symphony — hi  r  the 

Antient    Orpheus:  ntious,    arid 

ny,  full  of  unconsci         pickii         ad  stealings 

from   Mend  .n.  his  ter,  scrupulously 

worked  ap  int  >  the  sti  m.     It  w 

a  them<   ■      a  thi  fack  aded 

.  the  |  r. 

•   .  ■  ad  V 

this  to  the  Polish  "1         Maclagan ! 

H  e  having  his  theme  treated  in 

that  fashi 

[f  he  intend  ."  said   Adrian  indig- 

nantly, "it  is  in  able  tast  .     Mr.  Ma         in  ought 

ave  the  room. " 

"You     think    like    me,    Monsieur    Herbert,"    said 
Mademoiselle    Szczymplii  "All   must  be   forgiven 

to  M«>nsicur   Jacques;  but  he  should  not  insult  those 
who  are  less  fortunal         gifted  than  he.  sides,  it  is 

an  old  man." 

jack  then  began  improvising  on  the  theme  with  a 
capriciousness  of  which   the   humor   was  lost  on   the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  191 

majority  of  the  guests.  He  treated  it  with  an  eccen- 
tricity which  burlesqued  his  own  style,  and  then  with 
a  pedantry  which  burlesqued  that  of  the  composer. 
At  last,  abandoning  this  ironical  vein  when  it  had 
culminated  in  an  atrociously  knock-kneed  fugato,  he 
exercised  his  musical  fancy  in  earnest,  and  succeeded 
so  well  that  Maclagan  felt  tempted  to  rewrite  the 
middle  section  of  the  movement  from  which  the 
subject  was  taken.  The  audience  professed  to  be 
delighted,  and  were  in  truth  dazzled  when  Jack 
finished  by  a  commonplace  form  of  variation  in  which 
he  made  a  prodigious  noise  with  his  left  hand, 
embroidered  by  showers  of  arpeggios  with  his  right. 

44  Magnificent!"  said  Mr.  Phipson,  applauding. 
"Splendid." 

"Ah!"  said  Mdlle.  Szczympliga,  sighing,  "if  I  had 
but  his  strength,  I  should  fear  no  competitor.' 

"Is  it  possible,"  said  Herbert,  "that  you,  who  play 
so  beautifully,  can  envy  such  a  man  as  that.  I  would 
rather  hear  you  play  for  one  minute  than  listen  to 
him  for  an  hour." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Alas!"  she  said, 
"you  know  what  I  can  do;  and  you  are  so  good  as  to 
flatter  me  that  I  do  it  well.  But  I !  I  know  what  I 
cannot  do." 

"How  are  you,  Mademoiselle?"  said  Jack,  approach- 
ing them  without  staying  to  answer  several  persons 
who  were  congratulating  him.  "Good  evening,  Mr. 
Herbert.     Ah,  Mr.   Phipson." 

"Mademoiselle  Szczympliga  has  been  paying  you  a 
high  compliment — I  fully  agree  with  Mr.  Herbert  that 
it  is  an  exaggerated  one,"  said  Phipson,  "She  wishes 
she  could  play  like  you. ' ' 


192  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"And  so  Mr.  Herbert  thinks  'God  forbid!'  does  he?1 
Well,  he  is  right  Why  do  you  want  to  trample  on 
the  pianoforte  as  I  do,  Fraulein,  when  you  ean  do  so 
much  better?  What  would  you  think  of  a  skiff  on  the 
waters  envying  the  attempts  of  a  cavalry  charger  to 
swim  -" 

"I  see  from  your  playing  how  far  I  fall  short  in  the 
last   movement  of   the    fantasia,   Monsieur  Jacqn<  I 

am  not  Strong  enongfa  to  play  it  as  you  think  it 
should  be   played.     Ah   yes,  yes,    yes;  but   I   know — I 

know. " 

"No,  Mademoiselle;  nor  art-  you  Btrong  enough  to 
dance  the  war-dam  Indian  thinks  it 

should   be   dan  Th  ;   attain,  the  m< 

you  leave  below  yon.     Kh,  Mr.  Herbert?" 

"I  am  not  a  musician,"  said  Herbert,  irritated  by 
Jack's  whimsical  a]  I     him.     "My  confirmati 

of  your  opinion  would  not  add  much  to  its  value." 
"Cmc,"  said  Jack:   "I  care  nothing  for  professional 

opinions.       According   to   them,    I    do    not   know   the 

rudiments  of  music.      Which   would    you   rather  hear 

the  Fraulein  p'.  .r  me?" 

"Since   you   compel   me   to  express   a   preference,    I 

had  rather  hear  Maden  ^czymplica." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Jack,  delighted  "Now  I  must 
go  back  to  Miss  Sutherland,  who  has  been  left  to  take 
care  of  herself  whilst  I  was  playing. 

Herbert  reddened.      Jack   nodded  and  walked  away. 

"Miss — Miss — I  cannot  say  it.  She  is  the  young 
lady  who  was  with  you  at  the  concert,  when  Monsieur 
Feepzon  introduced  us.  She  is  very  dark,  and  wears 
lunettes.      Is  not  that  s< 

"Yes." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  193 


t( 


She  is  not  stiff,  like  some  of  the  English  ladies.     Is 
she  a  great  friend  of  yours?" 

"She — Her  elder  brother,  who  is  married  to  Mrs. 
Phipson's  daughter,  was  at  school  with  me;  and  we 
were  great  friends." 

"Perhaps  I  should  not  have  asked  you.  I  fear  I 
often  shock  your  English  ideas  of  reserve.  I'beg  your 
pardon." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Herbert,  annoyed  at  himself  for 
having  betrayed  his  uneasiness.  "Pray  do  not  let 
any  fear  of  our  national  shyness — for  it  is  not  really 
reserve — restrain  you  from  questioning  me  whenever 
you  are  interested  in  anything  concerning  me.     If  you 

knew  how  much  I  prize  that  interest "     She  drew 

back  a  little;  and  he  stopped,  afraid  to  go  on  without 
encouragement,  and  looking  wistfully  at  her  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  some  in  her  face. 

"How  do  you  call  this  lady  who  is  going  to  sing?" 
she  said,  judging  it  better  to  ask  an  irrelevant  question 
than  to  look  down  and  blush.  Jack's  voice,  speaking 
to  Mary  close  by,  interrupted  them. 

"I  can  listen  to  Josefs  because  he  can  play  the 
riddle,"  said  he,  "and  to  Szczympliga  because  she  can 
play  the  piano;  and  I  would  listen  to  her" — pointing 
to  the  singer — "if  she  could  sing.  She  is  only  about 
four  years  older  than  you;  and  already  she  dare 
attempt  nothing  that  cannot  be  screamed  through  by 
main  force.  She  has  become  what  they  call  a 
dramatic  singer,  which  means  a  singer  with  a  worn- 
out  voice.     Come,  make  haste:  she  is  going  to  begin." 

"But  perhaps  she  will  feel  hurt  by  your  leaving  the 
room.  Now  that  you  are  famous,  you  cannot  come 
and  go  unnoticed,  as  I  can." 


194  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 

"So   much   the   worse   for  those   who  n  inc.      I 

hal  i  miserable  who  think  that  music 

-  only  in  their  own  throats.     There  si  i  i  with 

her  Divinit/s  du  :  God's  sake." 

"I  think  this  room   is  the   pleas No,  I   do  not 

Let  us  g 
Mary's    habitual    1""';  of    resolution  had  gathered 

into   a   frown.      They   went   hack   to  the  which 

was  now  1:     Mrs.    Phipson   and    her    neighbors 

bavin  •    to  hear  the  mu 

•  .\    •  for  your  thoughts,"  said  Jack,    Bitting 

down  1  '  I    •  w 

She  started  and  said  "What  do  you  mean?" 

Then,  r  herself  a  little  ilous  of  whom; 
and  why?" 

"J<  alous  of  S  M    ter  I  [erbert 

seems  I                    it  there  ne  else  in  the  whole 

world  t  ht" 

"]  did  not  ■  '  •  his  absorption.  I  am  sure  she  is 
very  we      i         H  t  to  be  1  me  by  this 

I  e .  " 

"You  think   to  1  'ink   me,  d         n?      I   saw  you 

watching  him  the  wh  was  playing.     I  wish 

you  would  quarrel  with  him." 

"Why  do  you  wish  thai  r" 

"Because  I  am  tired  of  him.  If  you  were  well  rid 
of  the  fellow,  yon  would  stick  to  your  music;  pitch 
your  nasty  oil  paints  into  the  Thames  ;  and  be  friendly 
to  me  without  accusing  yourself  of  treason  to  him.  He 
is  the  most  uncomfortable  chap  I  know,  and  the  one 
least  suited  to  you.  Besides,  he  can't  paint.  I  could 
do  better  myself,  if  I  tried." 

I  »ther  people  do  not  think  so.     I  have  suspected 


» » i 


Love  Among  the  Artists  195 

ever  since  I  first  met  you  in  his  studio  you  did  not 
admire  his  painting." 

4 'You  had  the  same  idea  yourself,  or  you  would 
never  have  detected  it  in  me.  I  am  no  draughtsman ; 
but  I  recognize  weakness  by  instinct.  You  feel  that 
he  is  a  duffer.     So  do  I." 

"Do  you  think,  if  he  were  a  duffer,  that  his  picture 
of  last  year  would  have  been  hung  on  the  line  at  the 
Academy;  or  that  the  Art  Union  would  have  bought 
it  to  engrave;  or  that  the  President  would  have  spoken 
of  it  so  highly  to  Adrian  himself?" 

"Pshaw!  There  must  be  nearly  two  hundred 
pictures  on  the  line  every  year  at  the  Academy ;  and 
did  you,  or  anyone  else,  ever  see  an  Academy  exhibition 
with  ten  pictures  in  it  that  had  twenty  years  of  life 
in  them?  Did  the  President  of  the  Academy  of  Music 
ever  speak  well  of  me;  or,  if  he  did,  do  you  think  I 
should  fell  honored  by  his  approval?  That  is  another 
superfine  duffer's  quality  in  your  Mr.  Adrian.  He  is 
brimming  over  with  reverence.  He  is  humble,  and 
speaks  with  bated  breath  of  every  painter  that  has 
ever  had  a  newspaper  notice  written  about  him.  He 
grovels  before  his  art  because  he  thinks  that  grovelling 
becomes  him." 

"I  think  his  modesty  and  reverence  do  become 
him." 

"Perhaps  they  do,  because  he  has  nothing  to  be 
bumptuous  about ;  but  they  are  not  the  qualities  that 
make  a  creative  artist.     Ha!  ha!" 

Mary  opened  her  fan,  and  began  to  fan  herself,  with 
her  face  turned  away  from  Jack. 

Well,"  said  he,  "are  you  angry?" 

No.     But  if  you  must  disparage  Adrian,  why  do 


196  Love  Among  the  Artists 

you    do    so    to  me?    Yon   know  the   relation  between 
us." 
"I  disparage  him  because  I  think  lie  is  a  humbug. 

If  he  spends  whole  days  in  explaining  to  you  what  a 
man  of  genins  els,  knowing  neither  the  one 

n<>r  the  other,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  not  give  you 
my  opinion  on  the  subject,  since  I  am  in  my  own 
way — not  a  humble  way — a  man  of  genius  myself."' 

n,  unfortunately,  has  not   the   same   faith   in 
himself  that  you  have." 

"Perhaps  he  has  not  as  .  ISOIL      A  man's  own 

'. f  is  the  1  to  l>eli<  D  him,  and  is  harder 

to     cheat    than    the    rest    of   the    w<>rld.      I    sometimes 

wonder  whether  I  am  not  an  impost  Old  Bee- 
thoven once  ask'  -  pupil  whether  he  really 
I  him  a  .  Shakspcrc,  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out,  only  BUCO  B  Ut  half-a-dozen 
times  in  1.       ttempt  at  play  writ      .     Do  you  suppose 

he  didn't  kn 

"Then  w!  you  blame  Adr  his  ditfidence?" 
"Ah!  that's  a  h<  another  color.  He  thinks 
himself  w  .n  other  men,  mortal  like  himself.  I 
think  myseli  1  occasionally,  because  there  are- 
times  wh  'ins  to  me  to  be  a 
ridicv            ing  in  itself.     Why  should  a  rational  man 

spend    his   life    in    making  j:  le    with    twelve 

notes?  But  at  such  times  Bach  seems  just  as  great  a 
fool  as  I.  Ask  me  at  any  time  whether  I  cannot  com- 
pose as  good  or  better  music  than  any  Tom,  Dick,  or 
Harry  now  walking  upon  two  legs  in  England;  and  I 
shall  not  trouble  you  with  any  cant  about  my  humble- 
ness or  unworthiness. " 

"Can  you  compose  better  music  than  Mozart's?     I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  197 

believe  you  are  boasting  out  of  sheer  antipathy  to 
poor  Adrian?" 

"Does  Mozart's  music  express  me?  If  not,  what 
does  it  matter  to  me  whether  it  is  better  or  worse?  I 
must  make  my  own  music,  such  as  it  is  or  such  as  I 
am — and  I  would  as  soon  be  myself  as  Mozart  or 
Beethoven  or  any  of  them.  To  hear  your  Adrian  talk 
one  would  think  he  would  rather  be  anybody  than 
himself.     Perhaps  he  is  right  there,  too." 

"Let  it  be  agreed,  Mr.  Jack,  that  you  have  a  low 
opinion  of  Adrian ;  and  let  us  say  no  more  about  him." 

"Very  well.  But  let  us  go  back  to  the  other  room. 
You  are  in  a  bad  humor  for  a  quiet  chat,  Miss  Mary." 

"Then  go  alone;  and  leave  me  here.  I  do  not  mind 
being  here  by  myself  at  all.  I  know  I  am  not  gaily 
disposed;  and  I  fear  I  am  spoiling  your  evening." 

"You  are  gay  enough  for  me.  I  hate  women  who 
are  always  grinning.  Besides,  Miss  Mary,  I  am  fond 
of  you,  and  find  attraction  in  all  your  moods." 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  you  are  very  fond  of  me,"  said 
Mary  with  listless  irony,  as  she  walked  away  with  him. 
In  the  other  room  they  came  upon  Herbert,  seeking 
anxiously  someone  in  the  eddy  near  the  door,  formed 
by  people  going  away.  Mary  did  not  attempt  to 
disturb  him;  but  he  presently  caught  sight  of  her. 
Thinking  that  she  was  alone — for  Jack,  buttonholed 
by  Phipson,  had  fallen  behind  for  a  moment — he  made 
his  way  to  her  and  said: 

"Where  is  Mrs.   Phipson,  Mary?     Are  you  alone?" 

"I  have  not  seen  her  for  some  time."  She  had  all 
but  added  that  she  hoped  he  had  not  disturbed  him- 
self to  come  to  her;  but  she  refrained,  feeling  that 
spiteful  speeches  were  unworthy  of  herself  and  of  him. 


i«;8  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Where  did  you  vanish  to  for  so  long?"  he  said. 
"I  have  hardly  seen  yon  the  whole  evening." 

"Were  you  looki  r  me?" 

lie  avoided  her  eyes,  and  stepped  aside  to  make  w 
fur  a  lady  who  was  passing.  "Shall  I  get  you  an  ice 
he  said,  this  welcome  interruption.     "It  is  very 

inn  in  here. " 

"N    .   thank  you.  u  know  that  I  never  eat  ices." 

"I  tl  at  this  fm  om  might  have 

preva  onr   hy$        .  principles.     Have  you 

enjo; 

I  have  not  been  espc     -   y  happy  or  the  reverse.     I 
enjoyed  the  music." 

"Oh  V'    .     Don't    y<»u    think    M  ymplic,a 

plays  beautifully?" 

"I  saw  that  you  th  She  is..  an 

expr<  □  into  your  face  that  I  have  never  seen  there 
befon 

II'  'quickly:  heb<      me  quite  r< 

"Y-      '  he  said,  "sh<  inly  plays  most  poetically. 

By    :  .1    think    Mr.  Jack    behaved    very  badly  in 

publicly  makin.  Mr.  Macl       :i.     Everyfo 

in  the  room  v. 

Mary  was  ready  to  retort  in  defence  of  Jack;  but 
before    she   could   utter    it     Mrs.    Phipson     I  up, 

:,  and   S]  ng  more   loudly  than   l         at  all 

necessary.  "Well,  Mr.  Herbert,"  she  was  saying, 
"you  really  have  behaved  most  charmingly  to  us  all 
the  evenir. .        I  think   we  may  go  now,  Ma:  Josefs 

has  gone;  and  Szczymplica  is  goill    .        there  is  really 

thing  to  stay  for.  Why  Adrian  Herbert  is  gone 
again!      How  excessively  odd!" 

"He  is  gone  to  get  Mdlle.  Szczymplica's  carriage," 


Love  Among  the  Artists  199 

said  Mary,  quietly.  "Be  careful,"  she  added,  in  a 
lower  tone:  "Mdlle.  Szczymplica  is  close  behind  us." 

"Indeed!  And  who  is  to  get  our  carriage?"  said 
Mrs.  Phipson,  crossly,  declining  to  abate  her  voice  in 
the  least.  "Oh,  really,  Mary,  you  must  speak  to  him 
about  this.  What  is  the  use  of  your  being  his  fiancee 
if  he  never  does  anything  for  you?  He  has  behaved 
very  badly.  Mr.  Phipson  is  with  that  Frenchwoman 
who  sang.  He  is  only  happy  when  he  is  running 
errands  for  celebrities.  I  suppose  we  must  either 
take  care  of  ourselves,  or  wait  until  Adrian  con- 
descends to  come  back  for  us." 

"We  had  better  not  wait.  I  see  Charlie  in  the  next 
room:  he  will  look  after  us.     Come." 

The  Polish  lady  passed  them,  and  followed  her 
mother  down  the  staircase.  The  cloak  room  was 
crowded;  but  Madame  Szczymplica  fought  her  way  in, 
and  presently  returned  with  an  armful  of  furs.  She 
was  assisted  into  some  of  these  by  her  daughter,  who 
was  about  to  wrap  herself  in  a  cloak,  when  it  was 
taken  from  her  by  Herbert. 

"Allow  me,"  he  said,  placing  the  cloak  on  her 
shoulders.  "I  must  not  delay  you:  your  servant  has 
brought  up  your  carriage;  but " 

"Let  us  go  quickly,  my  child,"  said  Madame. 
"They  scream  like  devils  for  us.  Au  revoir,  Monsieur 
Herbert.     Come,  Aurelie!" 

"Adieu,"  said  Aurelie,  hurrying  away.  He  kept 
beside  her  until  she  stepped  into  the  carriage. 
"Certainly  not  adieu,"  he  said  eagerly.  "May  I  not 
come  to  see  you,  as  we  arranged?" 

"No,"  she  replied.  "Your  place  is  beside  Miss 
Sutherland,  your  affianced.     Adieu." 


200  Love  Among  the  Artists 

The  carriage  sped  off;  and  he  stood,  gaping,  until  a 

footman  reminded  him  that  he  was  in  the  way  of  the 
next  party.  He  then  returned  to  the  hall,  where  Mrs. 
Phipson  informed  him  coldly  that  she  was  sorry  she 
could  not  offer  him  a  seat  in  her  carriage,  as  there  was 
no  room.  So  he  bade  them  good-night,  and  walked 
home. 


CHAPTER   XI 

Every  day,  from  ten  in  the  forenoon  to  twelve, 
Mademoiselle  Szczymplica  practised  or  neglected  the 
pianoforte,  according  to  her  mood,  whilst  her  mother 
discussed  household  matters  with  the  landlady,  and 
accompanied  her  to  market.  On  the  second  morning 
after  the  conversazione,  Madame  went  out  as  usual. 
No  sooner  had  she  disappeared  in  the  direction  of 
Tottenham  Court  Road  than  Adrian  Herbert  crossed 
from  the  opposite  angle  of  the  square,  and  knocked  at 
the  door  of  the  house  she  had  just  left. 

Whilst  he  waited  on  the  doorstep,  he  could  hear  the 
exercise  Aurelie  was  playing  within.  It  was  a  simple 
affair,  such  as  he  had  often  heard  little  girls  call  "five- 
finger"  exercises;  and  was  slowly  and  steadily  con- 
tinued as  if  the  player  never  meant  to  stop.  The  door 
was  opened  by  a  young  woman,  who,  not  expecting 
visitors  at  that  hour,  and  being  in  a  slatternly  condition, 
hid  her  hand  in  her  apron  when  she  saw  Adrian. 

"Will  you  ask  Miss  Szczympliga  whether  she  can  see 
me,  if  you  please. ' ' 

The  servant  hesitated,  and  then  went  into  the  parlor, 
closing  the  door  behind  her.  Presently  she  came  out, 
and  said  with  some  embarrassment,  "Maddim  Chim- 
pleetsa  is  not  at  home,  sir. ' ' 

"I  know  that,"  said  he.  "Tell  mademoiselle  that  I 
have  a  special  reason  for  calling  at  this  hour,  and  that 
I  beg  her  to  see  me  for  a  few  moments."     He  put  his 

201 


202  Love  Among  the  Artists 

hand  into  his  pocket  for  hal  wn  as  he  B]        ;  but 

the       man  v.  i  he  had  made  up  his 

mind   t  e   it  to  her.  Qg  a  servant  jarred  his 

of  h 
"If  it's  very   particular,  madamazel  says  will  you 

to  walk  in;"  he,  returning. 

Adrian  followed  her  to  the        lor,  a  lofty,  spacious 

apartment    with    old  inscottir        and 

a    fire    |  framed    in    white    marble,    *  1    with 

es    and     garlaa  The     piano    stood     in     the 

middle     of    the           m;     and    the  I   .      et     was     roll 

Up   in   a   corner,    so    as   not    to  D    the   resonance 

the  board        A                  -  stai  the  piano, 

looking  at  him  with  a  curi  kcr  of  h<             wd 

"Ik  ry  with  m 

with  such  i  ht  in  mei                       r,  that 

she  1  "I         v  I  k        interrupl 

your  practia  ad   I    k              o   watched    I 

madame  I                             I     you.     But  I  could 

not  endure  ai 

Aurelie  hesitated;    then  seated  k  .nd  motion 

him   t<>   a   chair,  which   he   drew  cl  "What 

w.ls  the    matter  ye  •"  she  said,  coquetting  in 

spite  of  hers- 

"It   was  a   day  of  un  the  meaning- of 

the    change    in    your   manner    towards   me    at    Hark 

treet  en  Monday,  after  I  had  left  you  for  a  few 
minutes. " 

Aurelie  made  a  little  grimace,  but  did  not  look  at 
him.     "Why  should  I  change         he  said. 

"That  is  what  I  ask  you.  You  did  change — some- 
body had  been  telling-  you   tales  about  me;  and  you 


Love  Among  the  Artists  203 

believed  them."  Aurelie's  eyes  lightened  hopefully. 
"Will  you  not  charge  me  openly  with  whatever  has 
displeased  you;  and  so  give  me  an  opportunity  to 
explain." 

"You  must  have  strange  customs  in  England,"  she 
said,  her  eyes  flashing  again,  this  time  with  anger. 
"What  right  have  I  to  charge  you  with  anything? 
What  interest  have  I  in  your  affairs?" 

"Aurelie,"  he  exclaimed,  astonished:  "do  you  not 
know  that  I  love  you  like  a  madman?" 

"You  never  told  me  so,"  she  said.  "Do  English- 
women take  such  things  for  granted?"  She  blushed 
as  she  said  so,  and  immediately  bent  her  face  into 
her  hands;  laughed  a  little  and  cried  a  little  in  a 
breath.  This  lasted  only  an  instant;  for,  hearing 
Herbert's  chair  drawn  rapidly  to  the  side  of  hers, 
she  sat  erect,  and  checked  him  by  a  movement  of  her 
wrist. 

"Monsieur  Herbert:  according  to  our  ideas  in  my 
country  a  declaration  of  love  is  always  accompanied  by 
an  offer  of  marriage.  Do  you  then  offer  me  your  love, 
and  reserve  your  hand  for  Miss  Sutherland?" 

"You  are  unjust  to  yourself  and  to  me,  Aurelie.  I 
offered  you  only  my  love  because  I  could  think  of 
nothing  else.  I  do  not  expect  you  to  love  me  as 
blindly  as  I  love  you;  but  will  you  consent  to  be  my 
wife?  I  feel — I  know  by  instinct  that  there  can  be  no 
more  unhappiness  for  me  in  the  world  if  you  wrill  only 
call  me  your  dearest  friend."  He  said  this  in  a 
moment  of  intoxication,  produced  by  an  accidental 
touch  of  her  sleeve  against  his  hand. 

Aurelie  became  pensive.  "No  doubt  you  are  our 
dear  friend,  Monsieur  Herbert,     We  have  not  many 


>4  Love  Among  the  Artists 

friends.      I  do  not  find  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as 
love" 
"Vcu  do  not  ."  he  said,  dejected. 

"Indeed,  you  must  not  think  so,"  she  said  quickly. 
uYon    have     been    \  kind     to    us,    though    we    are 

stran.  >r  we  are  strangers,  are  we  not?    Vou 

hardly  know  And  y.»u  are  so  foreign!" 

'•  1  :      I  ha  t  a  drop  of  0  blood  in  my  veins. 

Yon  are  not  I  >med  to  England  yet.     I  hope  you 

not   think   me   I  <  >>.,    I    am  jealous   of  all 

your  countrymen  !" 

"You   :  be,  1:  D  knows!     We  have  few 

friends  in  Poland. " 

"An  do   you   know   that    you    are   savin-'  'we,' 

and  'us,'  as  if  yoi  t  understand  that  I  love  you 

alone — that    I  am   h  \  a  friend  of  your  family, 

but  as  r  to  youra  If,  '  lind  to  tl.  I  -nee  of 

any  other  \><  in  the  nniv<  [o         r  presence 

1    feel    as    if    I    W<  "■  ne    in     I  ,;reat 

pictu  list«  in   a  beautiful  to    the 

aging  of  angels,  yet  with  some  inde  rapture 

Led  to  that  feelin        Since  I  Baw  you,  all  my  old 

dreams  and  enthusiasms  have  come  to  life  again. 
Vou  can  blot  them  out   I  '.  or  make  them  ever- 

lasting with  one  w<>rd.      D  I  love  me?" 

She  turned  hesitatingly  towards  him,  but  waited  to 
Bay,  "And  it  is  then  wholly  false  what  Madame  Feep- 
son  said  that  night?  " 

"What  did  she  say?"  demanded  Herbert,  turning- 
red  with  disappointment. 

She  drew  back,  and  looked  earnestly  at  him. 
"Madame  said,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice,  "that 
Miss  Sutherland  was  your  affianced." 


t  ( 


Love  Among  the  Artists  205 

"Let  me  explain,"  said  Adrian,  embarrassed.  She 
rose  at    once,    shocked.      "Explain!"    she  repeated. 

Oh,  Monsieur,  yes  or  no?" 

Yes,  then,  since  you  will  not  listen  to  me,"  he  said, 
with  some  dignity.  She  sat  down  again,  slowly,  look- 
ing round  as  if  for  counsel. 

"What  shall  you  not  think  of  me  if  I  listen  now?" 
she  said,  speaking  for  the  first  time  in  English. 

"I  shall  think  that  you  love  me  a  little,  perhaps. 
You  have  condemned  me  on  a  very  superficial  infer- 
ence, Aurelie.  Engagements  are  not  irrevocable  in 
England.  May  I  tell  you  the  truth  about  Miss 
Sutherland?" 

Aurelie  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  said  noth- 
ing.    But  she  listened. 

"I  became  engaged  to  her  more  than  two — nearly 
three  years  ago.  As  I  told  you,  her  elder  brother, 
Mr.  Phipson's  son-in-law,  is  a  great  friend  of  mine; 
and  through  him  I  came  to  know  her  very  intimately. 
I  owe  it  to  her  to  confess  that  her  friendship  sustained 
me  through  a  period  of  loneliness  and  discouragement, 
a  period  in  which  my  hand  was  untrained,  and  my 
acquaintances,  led  by  my  mother,  were  loud  in  their 
contempt  for  my  ability  as  an  artist  and  my  per- 
verseness  and  selfishness  in  throwing  away  oppor- 
tunities of  learning  banking  and  stockbroking.  Miss 
Sutherland  is  very  clever  and  well  read.  She  set  her- 
self to  study  painting  with  ardor  when  I  brought  it 
under  her  notice,  and  soon  became  a  greater  enthusiast 
than  I.  She  probably  exaggerated  my  powers  as  an 
artist :  at  all  events  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  gave  me 
credit  for  much  of  the  good  influence  upon  her  that 
was  really  wrought  by  her  new  acquaintance  with  the 


20')  Love  Amoiw  the  Artists 


b 


handiwork  of  gTeat  me  However  that  maybe,  we 

were  united   in   our  devotion    to  art;   and  I  was  deeply 

ateful  to  her  for  being  my  friend  when  I  had  no 
other.  I  was  so  lonely  that  in  my  fear  of  losing  her 
I  1  <  1  her  to  betroth  herself  t<>  m  She  consented 
without  hesitation,  though  my  eireumstanees  neces- 
sitated a  loi  ement  That  i  it  has 
never  been   formally  d                    but   fulfilment  of  it  is 

w   im  :ble.  -\v   you  and   found 

out  for  the   first  time  what  h>  illy  is,  i     "  relations 

had    insensibly   altered.     Miss   Sutherland   cooled   in 

her  enthu  intin.  d 

that  it  could  not  be  mastered  like  a  Language 

or  an  n  history.  ie  eame  under  the  influence  of 

Mr.  J. i  k,  who  may  be  a  man  of  genius — I  am  no 
jui  >f   musical    matters — and   who   is   undoubtedly, 

in  his  own  way,  a  man  of  honor.  it  he  is  so  far  fr«>m 

ing    th<  amenl         an   artist,    that   his 

whole  character,  hi  living,  and  all  hi  is, 

are    absolutely   d        ictive    of    that    atmospher< 

melancholy  grandeur  in  whic".  find   their 

inspii        n.     His  musical  faculty,  to  my  mind,  is  as 

lOrdinary  an   accident  as   if   it   had   occurred   in    a 

buffalo.     How    ■    .  M       Sutherland  turned  to  him  1   - 

lidance   in   artistic  matters;  and  doubtless  h<  ed 

her  the  trouble  of  thinki:  -elf;   for  she  did  r. 

question  him  a  had  been  in  the  habit  of  question- 

ing me.  Perhaps  lie  understood  her  better  than  I. 
lie  certainly  behaved  towards  her  as  I  had  never 
behaved;  and,  though  it  still  seems  to  me  that  my 
method  was  the  more  respectful  to  her,  he  supplanted 
me  in  her  regard  most  effectually.  I  do  not  mean  to 
convey  that  lie  did  so  intentionally;  for  anything  less 


Love  Among  the  Artists  207 

suggestive  of  affection  for  any  person — even  for  him- 
self— than  his  general  conduct,  I  cannot  imagine ;  but 
she  chose  not  to  be  displeased.  I  was  hurt  by  her 
growing  preference  for  him :  it  discouraged  me  more 
than  the  measure  of  success  which  I  had  begun  to 
achieve  in  my  profession  elated  me.  Yet  on  my  honor 
I  never  knew  what  jealousy  meant  until  I  saw  you, 
playing  Jack's  music.  I  did  not  admire  you  for  your 
performance,  nor  for  the  applause  you  gained.  There 
are  little  things  that  an  artist  sees,  Aurelie,  that  sur- 
pass brilliant  fingering  of  the  keyboard.  I  cannot 
describe  them;  they  came  home  to  me  as  you  appeared 
on  the  platform ;  as  you  slipped  quietly  into  your 
place;  as  you  replied  to  Manlius's  enquiring  gesture 
by  a  look — it  was  not  even  a  nod,  and  yet  it  reassured 
him  instantly.  When  the  music  commenced  you 
became  dumb  to  me,  though  to  the  audience  you 
began  to  speak.  I  only  enjoyed  that  lovely  strain  in 
the  middle  of  the  fantasia,  which  by  Jack's  own  con- 
fession, owed  all  its  eloquence  to  you  alone.  When 
Mr.  Phipson  brought  us  under  the  orchestra  and 
introduced  us  to  you,  I  hardly  had  a  word  to  say ;  but 
I  did  not  lose  a  tone  or  a  movement  of  yours.  You 
were  a  stranger,  ignorant  of  my  language,  a  privileged 
person  in  a  place  where  I  was  only  present  on 
sufferance.  For  all  I  knew,  you  might  have  been 
married.  Yet  I  felt  that  there  was  some  tie  between 
us  that  far  transcended  my  friendship  with  Miss 
Sutherland,  though  she  was  bound  to  me  by  her 
relationship  to  my  old  school  friend,  and  by  every 
coincidence  of  taste,  culture,  and  position  that  can 
exist  between  man  and  woman.  I  knew  at  once  that 
I  loved  you,  and  had  never  loved  her.     Had  I  met 


S  Love  Anions  the  Artists 


b 


her  as  I  met  '  >  you  think  I  would  have  troubled 

Mr.  Phipson  to  introduce  me  to  her?     My  jealousy  of 
Jack  van:  I  was  content  that  he  should  be  your 

I  might  be  your  friend  Mary's  attach- 
ment to  him  n<»w  I  me  the  source  of  m  st 
happine          His   music    and  your  playing  were  the 

attract!  D  which  all  the  concerts  relied.      Jack  went 

to    t'  t8:      Mary  went   with  Jack:    I  followed 

Mary.     We  always  had  an  rtunil  to 

u,  thank  rival     [t  was  he  who  ged 

Mary  to  call  on  you.    It:    I    him  that  I  owe  my  freedom 

from  any  serious   ■  is  r»  my   Long 

ment;  and  hence  it  is  ti.         h  him  also  that  I 

me  h<  e  my  wife.    Aurelii 

I  |  d  the  v.  '  myself  , 

ent,  in  Ol  that   I 

might  it  to  you  with  the  most         t  fidelity; 

and    I  I  ha.  Q   the  truth;   but    I  cor. 

t0    yOU  what    I  feel 

tow                   Love            Dot  it:  it  i 

thing  new — somethingall  nary.   There 

IS   a    :                      —a    nev  n     in     me.      Tl 

are  no                         it  in   any  .    I  could  not  tell 

I  in  my  own.      It " 

"I  unci      '  md   you  very  well.  Your  engagement 

with  Miss  S-Sutherland" — she  always  meed  this 

:e  with  difficulty — "is  not  yet  br 

"Xot  explicitly.         it  you  need " 

"Hear  me,  Monsieur  Herbert  I  will  not  come 
between  her  and  her  lover.  Hut  if  you  can  affirm  on 
your  honor  as  an  English  gentleman  that  she  no 
longer  loves  you,  go  and  obtain  an  assurance  from 
her  that  it  is  so." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  209 

"And  then?" 

"And  then — Come  back  to  me;  and  we  shall  see. 
But  I  do  not  think  she  will  release  you." 

"She  will.  Would  I  have  spoken  to  you  if  I  had 
any  doubts  left?  For,  if  she  holds  me  to  my  word,  I 
am,  as  you  say,  an  English  gentleman,  and  must  keep 
it.     But  she  will  not." 

"You  will  nevertheless  go  to  her,  and  renew  your 
offer. ' ' 

"Do  you  mean  my  offer  to  you — or  to  her?" 

"My  God!  he  does  not  understand!  Listen  to  me, 
Monsieur  Herbert."  Here  Aurelie  again  resorted  to 
the  English  tongue.  "You  must  go  to  her  and  say, 
'Marie:  I  come  to  fulfil  my  engagement.'  If  she 
reply,  'No,  Monsieur  Adrian,  I  no  longer  wish  it,'  then 
— then,  as  I  have  said,  we  shall  see.  But  if  she  say 
'yes,'  then  you  must  never  any  more  come  back." 

"But " 

"No,  no,  no,"  murmured  Aurelie,  turning  away 
her  head.     "It  must  be  exactly  as  I  have  said." 

"I  will  undertake  to  learn  her  true  mind,  Aurelie, 
and  to  abide  by  it.  That  I  promise.  But  were  I  to 
follow  your  instructions  literally,  she  too  would  hold 
herself  bound  by  her  word,  and  would  say  'yes,'  in 
spite  of  her  heart.  We  should  sacrifice  each  other  and 
ourselves  to  a  false  sense  of  honor."  Aurelie  twisted 
a  button  of  her  chair,  and  shook  her  head,  uncon- 
vinced. "Aurelie,"  he  added  gravely:  "are  you 
anxious  to  see  her  accept  me?  If  so,  it  would  be 
kinder  to  tell  me  so  at  once.  Would  you  be  so  cruel 
as  to  involve  me  in  an  unhappy  marriage  merely  to 
escape  the  unpleasantness  of  uttering  a  downright 
refusal?" 


210  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Ah'"  she  said,  raising  her  head  again,  but  still  not 
looking  at  him,  "I  will  not  answer  yon.     You  seek  to 

entrap  me — you  ask  too  much."      Then,  after  a  pause, 
"Have    I    not    told    you    that    if   she    releases   you,  y 
may  return  here?" 

'And  I  may  infer   from  that 

She  cla  hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 

\nd  they  say  th         Englishmen  think  much  of  them- 

Y"ii  will  not  1><  it  possible  that  a  woman 

should   care    for   ;  He    hesitated   even    yet,    until 

she  made  asud  len  movement  towards  the  door,  when 

her   hand  and  it.      Sh<  w   it  away 

quickly;  ch<         I  him  him  to  ezcu 

her  ;   bo\y<  ml  left  the  r<  K>m. 

He  went  OUl  .  and    had    walked  as   far  as  Port- 

land   P  he  1  ■  •  what  he  should 

say  for  himfl  .  where  Mary  v.  - 

with  Mrs.  Plii]  At  Fitzroy  Square  he  I 

en    h<  ity   ■  »f  h,  in 

which  language  i  I  found  it  natural  and  easy  to  say 

many  things  which  in    English  would    h. 
extravagant    to   him.       lie    ha  I  Aurclie's   hand, 

as  it  w<  nch.     To  kiss  Mary *s hand  would,  he 

ridiculous         mony,  unworth  ivilized 

Englishman.     A  pr<  ;       I  to  jilt  her,  which  was  the 

substance  of  his  business  with  her  now,  was  not  easy 
to  frame  acceptably  in  any 

When   he   reached   the  h  he  found   her  with  her 

hat  on  and  a  workbag  in  her  hand. 

"I  am  waiting"  for  Miss  Cairns,  he  said.  "She  is 
coming  with  me  on  an  expedition.      I !  iess  what  it  is." 

"I  cannot.  I  did  not  know  that  Miss  Cairns  was  in 
town." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  2 1 1 

"We  have  decided  that  the  condition  of  Mr.  Jack's 
wardrobe  is  no  longer  tolerable.  He  is  away  at 
Birmingham  to-day;  and  we  are  going  to  make  a 
descent  on  his  lodgings  with  a  store  of  buttons  and 
darning  cotton,  and  a  bottle  of  benzine.  We  shall 
make  his  garments  respectable,  and  he  will  be  none 
the  wiser.  Now,  Adrian,  do  not  look  serious.  You 
are  worse  than  an  old  woman  on  questions  of 
propriety." 

"It  is  a  matter  of  taste,"  said  Herbert,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "Is  your  expedition  too  important  to  be 
postponed  for  half  an  hour?  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
rather  particularly." 

"If  you  wish,"  said  Mary  slowly,  her  face  lengthen- 
ing a  little.  She  was  in  the  humor  to  sally  out  and 
play  a  prank  on  Jack,  not  to  sit  down  and  be  serious 
with  Herbert. 

"It  is  possible,"  he  said,  noticing  this  with  some 
mortification,  though  it  strung  him  up  a  little,  too, 
"that  when  you  have  heard  what  I  have  to  say,  you 
will  go  on  your  expedition  with  a  lighter  heart. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  sorry  to  detain  you." 

"You  need  not  apologize,"  she  said,  irritated.  "I 
am  quite  willing  to  wait,  Adrian.  What  is  the 
matter?" 

"Are  you  quite  sure  we  shall  not  be  disturbed  here, 
even  by  Miss  Cairns?" 

"If  it  is  so  particular  as  that,  we  had  better  go  out 
into  the  Square.  I  cannot  very  well  barricade  myself 
in  Mrs.  Phipson'  drawing  room.  There  is  hardly  any- 
body in  the  Square  at  this  hour." 

"Very  well,"  said  Herbert,  trying  to  repress  a 
sensation    of    annoyance    which    he    also    began    to 


2\2  Love   Anion''   the  Artists 


Eperience.  ey  left  the  house  together  in  silerj 

the  gat<           the          iilar    enclosure    which 

cupies  th<  i               h  S  .".           aid  found 

it  •       mselves,  and   .         1  children. 

M  d  with  knit         brows,  waiting 

r  him  to  begin. 

Mary:  you  for  the  first  time 

the  qm    '     d  I  pat  to  you  that  day  when  we  rowed  <»n 

tl  me  the  same  ansv. 

S  thi  unexpected 
ch 

"i        u  had  not  put                                       to  day, 

would  yon  put  .id,  v.        ag  on  again. 

"For   H  at    being 

I  did  not  mean 
to  re; 

Mary  th         t  it  1  t  1  I [er  tern; 

wa  i  so  I  ild  suppress  the 

themsel 

it  sh<        aid  not  thin-.  ad  so 

had  either  or  b<         nt 

"I   hav<  I    fancy  so ,  '  he 

said  quietly,  after  t  has 

at  i  us  of  la        i  it 

once  was." 

"I  am  perfectly  ready  to  fulfil  it,"  said  Mary 
st'        LStly. 

"So  am  I,"  said  Adrian  in  the  same  tor  Another 
in!         d  of  silence  ensued. 

"The  ."  :.  then,  "whether  you  are 

willing  as  v  You  would  do  me  a  cruel 

in  jus         if,  having  pr         ed  me  your  heart,  you  were 
to  redeem  promise  with  your  hand  alone." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  213 

"What  have  you  to  complain  of,  Adrian?  I  know 
that  you  are  sensitive;  but  I  have  taken  such  pains 
to  avoid  giving-  you  the  least  uneasiness  during  the 
last  two  years  that  I  do  not  think  you  can  reasonably 
reproach  me.  You  agreed  with  me  that  my  painting 
was  mere  waste  of  time,  and  that  I  was  right  to  give  it 
up." 

"Since  you  no  longer  cared  for  it." 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  felt  sore  about  it." 

"Nor  do  I,  Mary." 

"Then  what  is  the  matter?" 

"Nothing  is  the  matter,  if  you  are  satisfied." 

"And  is  that  all  you  had'  to  say  to  me,  Adrian?" 
This  with  an  attempt  at  gaiety. 

Adrian  mused  awhile.  "Mary,"  he  said:  "I  wish 
you  in  the  first  place  to  understand  that  I  am  not 
jealous  of  Mr.  Jack."  She  opened  her  eyes  widely, 
and  looked  at  him.  "But,"  he  continued,  "I  never 
was  so  happy  with  you  as  when  we  were  merely 
friends.  Since  that  time,  I  have  become  your  pro- 
fessed lover;  and  Mr.  Jack  has  succeeded  to  the 
friendship  which — without  in  the  least  intending  it — I 
left  vacant.  I  would  willingly  change  places  with  him 
now." 

"You  ask  me  to  break  off  the  engagement,  then," 
she  said,  half  eager,  half  cautious. 

"No.  I  merely  feel  bound  to  offer  to  release  you 
if  you  desire  it." 

"I  am  ready  to  keep  my  promise,"  she  rejoined 
stubbornly. 

"So  you  say.  I  do  not  mean  that  you  will  not  keep 
your  word,  but  that  your  assurance  is  not  given  in  a 
manner  calculated  to  make  me  very  happy.     I  often 


214  Love  Among  the  Artists 

used  to  warn  you  that  you  thought  too  highly  of  me, 
Mary.  You  are  revenging  your  own  error  on  me 
now    by    letting  m  that  you  do  not  think  me 

worthy  of  the  sacrifice  you  feel  bound  to  make  for 
me. 

"I    never   Bpokfi    of    it    as    a   sacrifice,"    said    Mai 

turning  n        "I    took    particular  care—  I  mean  that 

roundlessly   jealous    of    Mr.    Jack.       [f   our 

eo         ment  is  to  he  brokeu  oil",  Adrian,  do  not  say 

that  I  broi     it.'* 

"I    do  not    think    that    /ha.-  it,   M.cy,"  -aid 

Herbeii 

"Then  I  bu]          it  h<  id.     A  long 

silenec  followed   this.     They  wall                           B  the 

.    and   half   way    I  -he    stopped,    and 

him  I         ly.     '•.'.  d:  air 

»n.      I    have  g    unworthily    with    you. 

Will  you  re'.  m   the  |  •-•ment,  and  let  us 

be  friends 

"You  do  wish  it,  then,"  .-led. 

"1  do ;   and  I  was   1.  lid  pf<          0  it 

.aid  so  be  h  me  with  going 

back   from    my    word.      That  was   mean;    and    I   came 

to  my  sen         Luring  that  last  turn  a  the  squan 

I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  only  desire  l  free  to 

remain  unmarried.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  Mr. 
Jack  or  with  any  other  man.      It  'y  that   I  should 

not  be  a  good  wife  to  you.  I  do  not  think  I  will 
marry  at  all.      You  are   far  too  good  for  me,  Adrian.' 

Herbert,  ashamed  of  himself,  stood  looking  at  her, 
unable  to  reply. 

"I  know  I  should  have  told  you  this  frankly  at  first," 
she  continued  anxiously.      "But  my  want  of  straight- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  215 

forwardness  only  shows  that  I  am  not  what  you  thought 
I  was.  I  should  be  a  perpetual  disappointment  to  you 
if   you   married    me.     I   hope   I    have  not  been    too 

sudden.     I  thought — that  is,    I   fancied Well,    I 

have  been  thinking  a  little  about  Mdlle.  Szczympliga. 
If  you  remain  friends  with  her,  you  will  soon  feel  that 
I  am  no  great  loss." 

"I  hope  it  is  not  on  her  account  that " 


t  < 


No,  no.  It  is  solely  for  the  reason  I  have  given. 
We  are  not  a  bit  suited  to  one  another.  I  assure  you 
that  I  have  no  other  motive.  Are  you  certain  that 
you  believe  me,  Adrian?  If  you  suspect  me  of  want- 
ing to  make  way  for  another  attachment,  or  of  being 
merely  huffed  and  jealous,  you  must  think  very  ill  of 
me." 

Herbert's  old  admiration  of  her  stirred  within  him, 
intensified  by  the  remorse  which  he  felt  for  having 
himself  acted  as  she  was  blaming  herself  for  acting. 
He  was  annoyed  too  because  now  that  circumstances 
had  tested  them  equally,  she  had  done  the  right  thing 
and  he  the  wrong  thing.  He  had  always  been 
sincere  in  his  protests  that  she  thought  too  highly  of 
him;  but  he  had  never  expected  to  come  out  of  any 
trial  meanly  in  comparison  with  her.  He  thought  of 
Aurelie  with  a  sudden  dread  that  perhaps  she  saw 
nothing  more  in  him  than  this  situation  had  brought 
out.  But  he  maintained,  by  habit,  all  his  old  air  of 
thoughtful  superiority  as  he  took  up  the  conversation. 

"Mary,"  he  said,  earnestly:  "I  have  never  thought 
more  highly  of  3^ou  than  I  do  at  this  moment.  But 
whatever  you  feel  to  be  the  right  course  for  us  is  the 
right  course.  I  have  not  been  quite  unprepared  for 
this;  and  since  it  will  make  you  happy,  I  am  content 


2 1  Love  Among  the  Artists 

to  1"  on  as  a  wife,  provided  I  do  not  lose  you  as  a 
friend." 

"I  shall  always  be  prond  to  be  your  friend,"  she 
Ing  him  her  hand.  He  took  it,  feeling  quite 
noble  again.  Rrweart  'she  continue 

'.ml  I  can  wish  for  your  hap]  i  without  feeling 
heavily  n  r  it.        ad,    Adrian:    when  we 

w-  ve  me  some  presents  and  wrote 

nit  iters.     May  I  keep  them?" 

"I  shall  be  very  much  hurt  if  you  return  them; 
th<  I    sup]  .;ht   to  do  so  if  you 

wish." 

"I  will  I  I  then."      Tl  I  hands  once 

m«>re  before  she  resumed  in  her  ordinary  tone,  "I 
wonder   lias    Miss   Cairns   been  '  r  me  all  this 

time." 

I  In    the    "  k   to  the  house    they  chatted  busily 

on  in  t  matl  The  servant  who  opened  the 

.    •      m   that    Miss  Cairns  was    within. 
Mary  entered;  but  1:         it  did  not  follow. 

"If    yon    do    not    mind,"    he    Said,    "I    think    I    fa 

rather  DOt  in."      Tfa  I   natural   after  what 

had  pa        1.      She  smil'  him  .        .bye. 

"G  ,  Mary,"  he  said.      As  the  on 

her,  lie  turned  towards  Fitsroy  Square;  a  feelii 

being  ill   and  out  of  C  t  with  himself  made  him 

turn  back  to  a  restaurant  in  I  :d   Street,  where  he 

had  a  chop  and  r"  wine.         fter  this,  his  ardor 

suddenly  revived;  and  he  hurried  towards  Aurelie's 
residence  by  way  of  Wells  Street.  He  soon  lost  his 
way  in  the  labyrinth  between  Great  Portland  and 
Cleveland  Streets,  and  at  last  emerged  at  Portland 
Road  railway  station.      Knowing  the   way  thence,  he 


Love  Among  the  Artists  217 

started  afresh  for  Fitzroy  Square.  Before  he  had 
gone  many  steps  he  was  arrested  by  his  mother's 
voice  calling-  him.  She  was  coming  from  the  station, 
and  overtook  him  in  the  Euston  Road,  at  the  corner 
of  Southampton  Street. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing  in  this  quarter  of  the 
town?"  he  said,  stopping,  and  trying  to  conceal  how 
unwelcome  the  interruption  was. 

"That  is  a  question  which  you  have  no  right 
to  ask,  Adrian.  People  who  have  'Where  are  you 
going?'  and  'What  are  you  doing?'  always  in  their 
mouths  are  social  and  domestic  nuisances,  as  I  have 
often  told  you.  However,  I  am  going  to  buy  some 
curtains  in  Tottenham  Court  Road.  Since  you 
have  set  the  example,  may  I  now  ask  where  you  are 
going''" 


i  I 


I?  I  am  not  going  anywhere  in  particular  just  at 
present." 

"I  only  asked  because  you  stopped  as  if  you  wished 
to  turn  down  here.     Do  not  let  us  stand  in  the  street. " 

She  went  on;  and  he  accompanied  her.  Presently 
she  said: 

"Have  you  any  news?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  after  pretending  to  consider.  "I 
think  not.     Why?" 

"I  met  Mary  Sutherland  with  Miss  Cairns  in  High 
Street  as  I  was  coming  to  the  train;  and  she  said  that 
you  had  something  to  tell  me  about  her." 

"It  is  only  that  our  engagement  is  broken  off " 

"Adrian!"  she  exclaimed,  stopping  so  suddenly  that 
a  man  walking  behind  them  stumbled  against  her. 

"Beg  pwor'n,  mum,"  said  he,  civilly,  as  he  passed 
on. 


a  i  Love  Among  the  Artists 


Pray  take  can-,  mot  remonstrated  Herbert. 

(  on. 

,4Do   to  impatient,  .  m.      My  dress  is  torn. 

I  •  ish  workmen  are  the  rudest  class  in  the 

WOrl         Will  you   hold   my  umbrella  for  tmi  moment, 

t  •• 

Adrian     took     the    uu  and    waited     chafin    . 

When     th.  Mrs.     Herbert     walked 

qui        .  taking  short  stej    . 

41  It  is  thoi  disl  •  . "  she  ' '  i  find 

thi  have  un  I  tl  ou  ever 

did  in  your  lii        I  thought  your  news  would  be  that 
you  had  arranged  for  the  wedding.     I  think  you  had 

Mar;.  i  can,  and  make  Up  yOUT 

in  quarrel,  rl  to  be  trifled  with." 

"  Everyth  n  Mary 

and  i.         Th<  r  [uarreL  brol 

r  it  you    or 

"V  \xl  re  is  do  o         m  for  you 

to  be  angry.      I    am  cant  0  are.      I  merely  say 

thi        u  ha-.  lish  thing. " 

"You  do  not   kn->w   what   I   hav<  :e.      You  know 

ilutely "      He  chi    '.     I   himself  and  walked  on 

in  silen 

Adrian,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  with  dignity:  "you 
are  going  back    I        i  ur  childish   ha'.  I    think.      You 

are  in  a 

"If  I  am,"  he  replied  bitterly,  "you  are  the  only 
person   alive   who    tak  ay   pleasure   in   putting1   me 

into  one.      I  know  that  you  i  r  me  a  fool." 

"I  do  not  consider  you  a  fool." 

"At  any  rate,  mothc  >u  have  such  an  opinion  of 


( I 
I  ( 


Love  Among  the  Artists  219 

me,  that  I  would  rather  discuss  my  private  affairs 
with  any  stranger  than  with  you.  Where  do  you 
intend  to  buy  the  curtains?" 

Mrs.  Herbert  did  not  help  him  to  change  the  sub- 
ject. She  remained  silent  for  some  time  to  compose 
herself;  for  Adrian's  remark  had  hurt  her. 

"I  hope,"  she  said  at  last,  "that  these  musical 
people  have  not  brought  about  this  quarrel — or  breach, 
or  whatever  it  is." 

"Who  are  'these  musical  people'?" 
Mr.  Jack." 

He  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.      It  was 
Mary  who  proposed  to  break  the  engagement:  not  I." 

"Mary!  Oh!  Well,  it  is  your  own  fault:  you 
should  have  married  her  long  ago.  But  why  should 
she  object  now  more  than  another  time?  Has  Made- 
moiselle— the  pianist — anything  to  do  with  it?" 

"With  Mary's  withdrawing?  No.  How  could  it 
possibly  concern  Mademoiselle  Szczympliga — if  it  is  of 
her  that  you  are  speaking?" 

"It  is  of  her  that  I  am  speaking.  I  see  she  has 
taught  you  the  balked  sneeze  with  which  her  name 
begins.  I  call  her  Stchimpleetza,  not  having  had  the 
advantage  of  her  tuition.     Where  does  she  live?" 

Herbert  felt  that  he  was  caught,  and  frowned. 
"She  lives  in  Fitzroy  Square,"  he  said  shortly. 

"A-ah!  Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Herbert.  Then  she 
added  sarcastically,  "Do  you  happen  to  know  that  we 
are  within  a  minute's  walk  of  Fitzroy  Square?" 

"I  know  it  perfectly  well.  I  am  going  there — to 
see  her." 

"Adrian,"  said  his  mother  quickly,  changing  her 
tone:  "you  don't  mean  anything  serious,  I  hope?" 


2  20  Love  Among  the  Artists 


b 


uYon  do  not  hope  that  I  am  trifling  with  her,  do 
you,  moth 

Mrs.    Herbert  at  him,  startl<         "Do   you 

mean  t<  .  Adrian,  that  you  have  thrown  Mary  over 

because " 

"1         ise  it's  well  to  1  with  the  old  love,  before 

i  arc  on  with  the  new?     You  may  put  that  con- 

■     e       .   it  if  yon  1:  (though   I   have  told  you 

that  it  was  M      •.  .md  not  I,  who  e  the  engage- 

nt.       I    had    better  tell  yon    the   whole  truth   :  to 

av  mr  next  mi    tin]    with  us<  n- 

plaints.     I  an.  ympli 

■ 

"Y  She  will  not  accept  you.     She 

making 

"She    ma;  wish         *  ■ :     that    is 

enou  >r  m<       She  knows  my  mind.      I    am   not 

go'  it. " 

"I  1  km        ■  old  your  obstinacy  wh< 

If.     I  have  no  d< >ubt 
that  will  marry   he         irticularly  he  is  n< 

the    sort    of    p  I   b!        I   chi  it  a 

daughter-in-lav       Will  j  ect  me  to  receive  her?" 

u I   shall   1  no    more   when    I    am 

ma  d  I  have  d<  ichelor. " 

r  a  moi  y  surprise  by  this 

blow;   but  she  did  not  retort.      They  presently  stopped 
before  the  shop  <he  wished  to  v.         and  as  they  stood 
'.   r  n<  ar  tl  e  entry,  she  made  an  effort  to  speak 
kindly,  and  even  put  her  hand  c.  mgly  on  his  arm. 

"Adrian:  t  be  so  headsti  [u  I     ait  a  little, 

I  do  not  say   'give  her  u;  ai{  a  little  longer, 

For  my  sake. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  221 

Adrian  bent  his  brows  and  collected  all  his  hardness 
to  resist  this  appeal.  "Mother,"  he  said:  "I  never 
had  a  cherished  project  yet  that  you  did  not  seek  to 
defeat  by  sarcasms,  by  threats,  and  failing  those,  by 
cajolery."  Mrs.  Herbert  quickly  took  her  hand  away, 
and  drew  back.  "And  it  has  always  turned  out  that 
I  was  right  and  that  you  were  wrong.  You  would  not 
allow  that  I  could  ever  be  a  painter;  and  yet  I  am 
now  able  to  marry  without  your  assistance,  by  my 
success  as  a  painter.  I  took  one  step  which  gained 
your  approval — my  engagement  to  Mary.  Had  I 
married  her,  I  should  be  this  day  a  wretched  man. 
Now  that  I  have  the  happiness  to  be  loved  by  a  lady 
whom  all  Europe  admires,  you  would  have  me  repudi- 
ate her,  for  no  other  reason  that  I  can  see  under 
Heaven  than  that  you  make  it  your  fixed  principle  to 
thwart  me  in  everything.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell 
you  plainly  that  I  have  come  to  look  upon  your 
influence  as  opposed  to  my  happiness.  It  has  been  at 
the  end  of  my  tongue  often ;  and  you  have  forced  me 
to  let  it  slip  at  last." 

Mrs.  Herbert  listened  attentively  during  this  speech 
and  for  some  seconds  afterwards.  Then  she  roused 
herself;  made  a  gesture  of  acquiescence  without  open- 
ing her  lips ;  and  went  into  the  shop,  leaving  him  still 
angry,  yet  in  doubt  as  to  whether  he  had  spoken 
wisely.  But  the  interview  had  excited  him ;  and  from 
it  and  all  other  goading  thoughts  he  turned  to 
anticipations  of  his  reception  by  Aurelie.  Short 
though  the  distance  was  he  drove  to  her  in  a  hansom. 

"Can  I  see  Miss  Szczympliga  again?"  he  said  to  the 
servant,  who  now  received  him  with  interest,  guessing 
that  he  came  courting, 


Love  Among  the  Artist 
he's   in   the    drawing-room,   sir.      You   may 

•  » 

in. 

He         nt   in    and    found    Aurelic   standing   near   the 

window  in  a  Mark  silk  dres  .   which  she  had  put  on 
his  visit  in  the  morning. 
"Mr.  mm;"  said  the        .-ant.  Lingering 

at  the  door  to  witness  their  mi  Aurelie  turned; 

made  him  ,-vn  ;    and  by  B   . 

invited   him    to    sit   .  II-  d;    but  when    the 

doo  'nit,  he  got  up  i  ached  her. 

eak  tl.  roent, 

although,  I  offered  t«-  fulfil  it.      I  am 

>r   the  instant,    I  hope."      She 
lemoisc  I  ympli  ;a,  "  he  added, 

changing    his    familial 

.     "will     you  me    the    honor   to 

become  my 
"With  .   Monsieur  Herbert,  if  my  mother 

lb  not  sure  raght  t<>  do  next     After 

a    mom  BtOOped    ami     kissed     1.' 

hand.     Cal  hing  a  roguish  1  >n  in  her  face  as 

he  looked  la  ped  her  in  his  an       and  kissed 

her   r  '.'■>'. 

Monsieur,"    she  said,  '.  ng  and  dis- 

gring   herself.      He  then  sat  down,   thinking  that 

she   had   behaved    with   admirable   grace,  and   he  him- 

If  with  becomu  idacity.     "I  thought  you  would 

expect   me  t<>  be   very  cold    and  ceremonious,"  she 

1,    resuming  her   seat  composedly.      "In    England 

one   must  always  be  solemn,  I   said  to  myself.       I  Jut 

in  vou    have   as  little   self-command   as    anyone. 

Besides,  you  have  not  yet  spoken  to  my  mother." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  223 

"You  do  not  anticipate  any  objection  from  her,  I 
hope." 

"How  do  I  know?  And  your  parents,  what  of  them? 
I  have  seen  your  mother:  she  is  like  a  great  lady.  It 
is  only  in  England  that  such  handsome  mothers  are  to 
be  seen.     She  is  widowed,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes.  I  have  no  father.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  had 
no  mother  either." 

"Oh,  Monsieur  Herbert!  You  are  very  wrong  to 
say  so.     And  such  a  gracious  lady,  too!     Fie!" 

"Aurelie:  I  am  not  jesting.  Can  you  not  under- 
stand that  a  mother  and  son  may  be  so  different  in 
their  dispositions  that  neither  can  sympathize  with  the 
other?  It  is  my  great  misfortune  to  be  such  a  son.  I 
have  found  sympathetic  friendship,  encouragement, 
respect,  faith  in  my  abilities  and  love" — here  he 
slipped  his  arm  about  her  waist;  and  she  murmured  a 
remonstrance — "from  strangers  upon  whom  I  had  no 
claim.  In  my  mother  I  found  none  of  them :  she  felt 
nothing  for  me  but  a  contemptuous  fondness  which  I 
did  not  care  to  accept.  She  is  a  clever  woman, 
impatient  of  sentiment,  and  fond  of  her  own  way.  My 
father,  like  myself,  was  too  diffident  to  push  himself 
arrogantly  through  the  world ;  and  she  despised  him 
for  it,  thinking  him  a  fool.  When  she  saw  that  I  was 
like  him,  she  concluded  that  I,  too,  was  a  fool,  and 
that  she  must  arrange  my  life  for  me  in  some  easy, 
lucrative,  genteel,  brainless,  conventional  way.  I 
hardly  ever  dared  to  express  the  most  modest  aspira- 
tion, or  assert  the  most  ordinary  claims  to  respect,  for 
fear  of  exciting  her  quiet  ridicule.  She  did  not  know 
how  much  her  indifference  tortured  me,  because  she 
had  no  idea  of  any  keener  sensitiveness  than  her  own. 


22^  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Everybody  commits   follies    from   youth   and   want   of 

rieno  ;   and  I  h  >pe  most  le  humor  and  spare 

such   follies   as   tenderly  as  they  ^\in.      My  mother  did 

not  even  laugh  at  them.     She  saw  through  them  and 

•  .     ii  out   with   open   contempt.      She    taught 
me  to  do  without  her  i  .    ration;  and  I  learned  the 

lesson.  My  friendfl  will  tell  you  that  I  am  a  had  son 
— never  that  she  is  a  bad  n.  p,  or  rather  no  mother. 

e  has  the  [ng   out  everything  that  is 

hasty  and  di&agtt  n   my  nature   by  her  presence 

alone.     This  is  h  I  were  wholly  an  orphan, 

and  why  I  ask   you,  w':  to  me  than  all   the 

world  I  by  what  y<  D       e  of  me,  and 

not     by    the     reports  i    may    hear   of    my    behavior 

towa 

"Oh,     it     is     f-  ul.      My     God!      To    hate     your 

mot:.'  I:'   you   d  •   will  you  lo 

your 

"With  all  the  love  my  moth<  ted,  added  to  what 

you  have  yourself  ii.  it  I  am  glad  you  are  sur- 

iaecL     Yonmi  f  your  own  mother." 

"That    i                          :it,*  Ar.rc.ic    with    a  shr 

"Mother  and   BOI  .lion.      Mothers   and 

lUghters  at  mother  in  an  ordinary  way 

as    a   matter   of   (  Y  >u   must    ask   her   pardon. 

Suppose  she  should  CU1  ■'.:." 

"Parental  cur        ire  out  of  fashion  in  England," 

said   Adrian,  amused,    and   yet   a  little   vexed.      "You 

will  understand  us  better  after  a  little  while.  Let  us 
drop  the  subject  of  my  old  grievan  3.  Are  you  fond 
of   pictures,  Aurelie?" 

"You  are  for  ever  asking  me  that.      Yes,  I  am  very 
fond  of  some  pictures.      I   have  seen  very  few." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  225 


t  * 


1 1 


But  you  have  been  in   Dresden,   in    Munich,    in 
Paris?" 

"Yes.  But  I  was  playing"  everywhere — I  had  not  a 
moment  to  myself.  I  intended  to  go  to  the  gallery  in 
Dresden ;  but  I  had  to  put  it  off.  Are  there  any  good 
pictures  at  Munich?" 

"Have  you  not  seen  them?" 

"No.  I  did  not  know  of  them.  When  I  was  in 
Paris,  I  went  one  day  to  the  Louvre;  but  I  could  only 
stay  half  an  hour;  and  I  did  not  see  much.  I  used  to 
be  able  to  draw  very  well.     Is  it  hard  to  paint?" 

It  is  the  most  difficult  art  in  the  world,  Aurelie." 
'You  are  laughing  at  me.  Why,  there  are  not  a 
dozen  players — real  players — in  Europe;  and  every 
city  is  full  of  painters. ' ' 

"Real  painters,  Aurelie?" 

"Ah!  perhaps  not.  I  suppose  there  are  second-rate 
painters,  just  like  second-rate  players.  Is  it  not  so, 
Me — Meestare  Adrian?" 

"You  must  not  call  me  that,  Aurelie.  People  who 
like  each  other  never  say  'Mister.'  You  say  you  used 
to  draw?"    . 

"Yes.  Soldiers,  and  horses,  and  people  whom  we 
knew.     Shall  I  draw  you?" 

By  all  means.     How  shall  I  sit?     Profile?" 
'You  need  not  sit  for  me.     I  am  not  going  to  copy 
you :  I  am  only  going  to  make  a  little  likeness.     I  can 
draw  dark  men  as  well  as  fair.     You  shall  see. ' ' 

She  took  a  piece  of  music,  and  set  to  work  with  a 
pencil  on  the  margin.  In  a  minute  she  shewed  him 
two  scratchy  sketches,  vilely  drawn,  but  amusingly 
like  Herbert  and  Jack. 

"I  can  just  recognize  myself, "  he  said,  examining 


it- 


L<        Among  the  Artists 


o 


them;  "but  that  "ne  of  Jack   is  capital.     Ha!    ha!" 

icn  1  led  i  ''Professed  painter  as  I  am,  I 

Id  not  do  that    P  rt     :ture  is  my  weak  point.     But 

I    would   not  have    left    Dl  □    without  :ng   the 

Madonna  di  San  Sisto. " 

ih!     L  anot  make  me  draw 

well,  no  more  1  uing  to  ild  make  me 

But  ind         I    ■    uld  have  •  to  the  gallery 

had  I  i  ■'■      n  that  I  M 

ly.     It  I  to  think  of  how 

and 

a  hav-   less  1  than  a  Cossack. 

fended,  M 

"I  hope  I    '.'*  he  i<  •        ..  •   '.■  k  by  a  char. 

in    her  m.  the   qu<         Q.      "If   j 

me  Easily 

hurt  it  n<  >t  offend        my 

... 

"M:;i—  what    is    that    that    y  id    in 

Ei        a?M 

m  car.  r  it  in  I  ry  wh 

it  wh  ocled  al 

"'  »:il\-  thi  I  want  you  t  ay." 

ug 

"Ws.      I    have    :.   I        Id    anything    to  my  mother 
yet     She  will  <  □  me  the  moment  me 

in  this  dress.    Youmti         t1  e  here  then.    To-mom 
you  will  call  on  her  at  four  o'clock;  and  all  will  be 
well.      N  ).      I  expect  her  every  moment." 

"May  I  n<  you  e  to-morrow  afternoon?" 

- 

"Why  should   you?     I   go  to-night  to  play   at   the 

mse  of  a  great  dame,   L  line  Porter,  w1 

is   the   daughter  of  a   nobleman    and    the    wife   of    a 


Love  Among  the  Artists  227 

baronet.  My  mother  loves  to  be  among  such  people. 
She  will  tell  you  all  about  our  ancestry  to-morrow." 

"Aurelie:  I  shall  meet  you  there.  Lady  Geraldine 
is  mother's  cousin  and  close  friend,  on  which 
account  I  have  not  sought  much  after  her.  But  she 
told  me  once  that  she  would  waste  no  more  invitations 
on  me — I  never  accepted  them — but  that  I  was  wel- 
come to  come  when  I  pleased.  I  shall  please  to- 
night, Aurelie.     Hurrah!" 

''Heaven!  you  are  all  fire  and  flame  in  a  moment. 
You  will  remember  that  at  Lady  Geraldine's  we  are  to 
be  as  we  were  before  to-day.  You  will  behave 
yourself?" 

44 Of  course." 

44  Now  go,  I  beg  of  you.  If  you  delay,  you  will — 
what  is  the  matter  now?" 

44  It  has  just  come  into  my  mind  that  my  mother  may 

be  at  Lady  Geraldine's.     If  so,  would  you  mind 

In  short,  do  not  let  Madame  Szczympliga  speak  to  her 
of  our  engagement.  Of  course  you  will  say  nothing 
yourself." 

44 Not  if  you  do  not  wish  me  to,"  said  Aurelie,  draw- 
ing back  a  step. 

44  You  see,  my  darling,  as  I  have  not  yet  spoken  to 
your  mother,  it  would  be  a  great  breach  of  etiquette 
for  you  or  Madame  to  pretend  to  know  my  intentions. 
That  is  nonsense,  of  course ;  but  you  know  how  formal 
we  are  in  this  country. ' ' 

44Oh,  is  that  the  reason?  I  am  glad  you  told  me; 
and  I  shall  be  very  careful.  So  will  my  mother. 
Now  go  quickly.     Au  revoir" 


CHAPTER   XII 

At  tl      '    ne,  Jaci  than  lie  had  ever  been 

His  works  wei  at  the  princi] 

at  the  rate  of  fifteen  guin< 
ii,  ail  :•  f'»r  lessons  at  that 

tempi 
him  with  ofl  lank  che  I  >r  inane  drawn 

ts.     Every  even- 
he  went  from  his  1"  "mire:  to  some 
public                            ■*  r  con- 

d  who 
con  ithont  him ; 

itement  in  th<        ■    trio 

b    musician,  and 
1.      At 
BUCh  r  as  he  r<  .  invitations,  some 

whit  h  I:  rs  he  accepted,  | 

ot  the  invita- 
•     q.     When  fa  " .  .s  re;  '  >y  the 

•inted   host  1   a'.';    '  of  her 

eni-  I  said  that  had  lie  been  asked  he 

should  h  is  he  never  f  aything.      Tie 

mad  calls,  left  no  cards,  and  paid  little  attent 

t<>  his  dn 

<  >ne  t  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Phipson, 

who    had    been    of  e    to    him    at    the     Antient 

rpheu  mong  the  I s  there  was  Lady  Geral- 

dine  Porter,  Mrs.  Herbert's  friend,  whom  Jack  did  not 

228 


Love  Among  the  Artists  229 

know.  She  was  a  lady  of  strong  common  sense, 
resolutely  intolerant  of  the  eccentricities  and  affecta- 
tions of  artists.  No  man  who  wore  a  velveteen  jacket 
and  long  hair  had  a  chance  of  an  introduction  to  or  an 
invitation  from  Lady  Geraldine.  These  people,  she 
said,  can  behave  themselves  properly  if  they  like.  We 
have  to  learn  manners  before  we  go  into  society:  let 
them  do  the  same,  since  they  are  so  clever.  As  to 
Jack,  he  was  her  pet  aversion.  Society,  in  her  opinion, 
had  one  clear  duty  to  Jack — to  boycott  him  until  he 
conformed  to  its  reasonable  usages.  And  she  set  an 
unavailing  example,  by  refusing  all  intercourse  with 
him  in  the  drawing-rooms  where  they  frequently 
found  themselves  together. 

When  the  inevitable  entreaty  from  Mrs.  Phipson 
brought  Jack  to  the  piano,  Lady  Geraldine  was  sitting 
close  behind  him  and  next  to  Mrs.  Herbert.  There 
was  a  buzz  of  conversation  going  on ;  and  he  struck  a 
few  chords  to  stop  it.  Those  who  affected  Jack-worship 
h'shed  at  the  talkers,  and  assumed  an  expression  of 
enthusiastic  expectation.  The  buzz  subsided,  but  did 
not  quite  cease.  Jack  waited  patiently,  thrumming 
the  keyboard.  Still  there  was  not  silence.  He  turned 
round,  and  saw  Lady  Geraldine  speaking  earnestly  to 
Mrs.  Herbert,  heedless  of  what  was  passing  in  the 
room.  He  waited  still,  with  his  body  twisted  towards 
her  and  his  right  hand  behind  him  on  the  keys,  until 
her  unconscious  breach  of  good  manners,  becoming 
generally  observed,  brought  about  an  awful  pause. 
Mrs.  Herbert  hastily  warned  her  by  a  stealthy 
twitch.  She  stopped;  looked  up;  took  in  the  situa- 
tion; and  regarded  Jack's  attitude  with  marked  dis- 
pleasure. 


Love  Among  the  Artist 

"Yon  mustn't   talk,"  he  said,  corrugating   his  nose. 

11  Y< >u  must  listen  to  me. 

La< I  ■  htly,  a  phenomenon 

which  no  on<  at  had  ever  witnessed  befor<        "I 

>n,"  sh  jack  appreciated 

the  dignity  of    her   I  md    gestnr         He  nodded 

dis.        intment,    for    she    had 
intended  (  h  him — and,  turning    to    the  piai 

gav<  in  th  site  form  of  a  stat 

minu-  Upon     this     lie    improvised    for    twenty-five 

.  to  the  delight  of  the  few  genuine  amateurs 

:it.     The       '.  though  much  fal         '..  were  loud 

in    admiration    of  uius;    and    many    of   tl. 

crowded  about  him  in  the  In-         indu         him  t 
a  similar  performance  at  their  own  nous 
"<  )h,  h<  •'.  I   ..     re  musi(  tl   *m  to  him 

;•  <  'ii,   when    I  I    sat    by  1:  "  I ;'    I  v. 

only  a  .ins  '.  1  piog  ne 

looked  ind         atly  at  her.     "I  why 

I  am  not  any- 

thii 

Q.      "I  am  very  f«  >r. 

l*N  not,"  Vou  i 

1    enough    of    music     when     it    walks    in    its    si! 

bU]  is  Mr.  1  ad  of  religion. " 

The  lady,  who  was  a  b  >rn  [rish  Pro1   stant,  a  Roman 

Catholic  by  conversion,  a  sort  of  freethinker,  after  the 
fashionable  broad-church  manner,  by  habit,  by  con- 
viction nothing  at  all,  and  very  superstitious  by 
nat:  .'.ways  sus;  :ie  personal  appli<  :i  in 

allusions  to  religion.     She  zance  at  him,  and 

said  pettishly,  "I  u  condescend  to  converse 

with  me  at  all,  since  you  have  such  a  low  opinion  of  me. " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  231 

"I  like  talking  to  you — except  when  you  go  into 
rhapsodies  over  music.     Do  you  know  why?" 

"I  am  sure  I  don't,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh 
and  a  glance  at  him.      "Why?" 

"Because  you  are  a  chatterbox,"  said  Jack,  relish- 
ing the  glance.  "Don't  think,  madame,  that  it  is 
because  you  are  a  kindred  spirit  and  musical.  I  hate 
musical  people.  Who  is  that  lady  sitting  next  Mrs. 
Herbert?" 

"What!  You  don't  know!  That  explains  your 
temerity.  She  is  Lady  Geraldine  Porter;  and  you  are 
the  first  mortal  that  ever  ventured  to  rebuke  her.  It 
was  delicious." 

"Is  that  the  lady  who  would  not  have  me  at  her 
house?" 

Yes.  You  have  revenged  yourself,  though." 
Plenty  of  fools  will  say  so;  and  therefore  I  am 
sorry  I  spoke  to  her.  However.  I  cannot  be  expected 
to  know  trifles  of  this  kind,  though  I  am  in  the  con- 
fidence of  pretty  Mrs.  Saunders.  Have  you  any 
wicked  stories  to  tell  me  to-day?" 

"No.  Except  what  everybody  knows,  and  what  I 
suppose  you  knew  before  anybody — about  your  friend 
Miss  Sutherland  and  Adrian  Herbert." 

"What  about  them?  Tell  me  nothing  about  Miss 
Sutherland  unless  you  are  sure  it  is  true.  I  do  not 
want  to  hear  anything  unpleasant  of  her." 

"You  need  not  be  so  cross,"  said  Mrs.  Saunders 
coolly.  "You  can  ask  her  for  the  particulars.  The 
main  fact  is  that  Mr.  Herbert,  who  was  engaged  to 
her,  is  going  to  marry  Szczympliga,  the  pianist." 

"Pshaw!  That  is  an^old  story.  He  has  been  seen 
speaking  to  her  once  or  twice;  and  of  course " 


1 1 


232  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Now,  Mr.  Jack,  let  me  tell  you  that  it  is  not  the  old 
story,  which  was  mere  gossip.  I  never  repeat  gossip. 
It  is  a  new  story,  and  a  true  one.  Old  Madame 
•inplca  told  me  all  about  it.  Her  daughter 
actually  refused  Mr.  Herbert  because  of  his  former 
en  ment;    and    then    he     went     straight     to     Mary 

Sutherland,  and  asked  her  to  give  up  her  claim — which 
of  course  she  had  to  do,  poor  girl.  Then  he  went 
back    to    the    Szczymplica,    and    pre\  I     with     her. 

Miss  Sutherland,  with  all  her  seriousness  shewed  that 
she  knows  her  m/tUT  as  well  as  the  most  frivolous  of 
her  sex-  -as  myself,  if  you  like;  for  she  Bet  t  >  work  at 
once    to    express    her    rem  at    having   jilted    ///';//. 

How  transparent  all  our  little  artifices  are  after  all, 
Mr.  Jack'" 

"  I    don't  it.  " 

"Von  shall  see.  I  did  not  believe  it  myself  at  first. 
But  Miss  Sutherlan  d  me  in  this  very  room  the 
day  be  iterday  that  Mr.   II         rt  was  no  longer 

engaged  to  her,  and  that  she  particularly  wished  it  to 
be  understood  that  if  there  was  any  blame  in  the 
matter,  it  was  due  to  her  and  not  to  him.  Of  course  I 
took  in   the  situation   at  0U<  She   said  it  admirably, 

almost  implying  that  she  was  magnanimously  eager  to 
shield  poor  Adrian  Herbert  from  my  busy  tongue. 
Poor  Mary!  she  is  well  rid  of  him  if  she  only  knew  it. 
I  wonder  who  will  be  the  next  candidate  for  the  post 
he  has  deserted''  Mrs.  Saunders,  as  she  wondered, 
glanced  at  Jack's  eyes. 

"Why  need  she  fill  it  at  all?  Every  woman's  head 
is  not  occupied  with  stuff  of  that  sort."  Jack  spoke 
gruffly,  and  seemed  troubled,  After  a  few  moments, 
during    which    she    leaned  back  lazily,  and  smiled  at 


Love  Among  the  Artists  233 

him,  he  rose.  "Goodbye,"  he  said.  "You  are  not 
very  amusing  to-day.  I  suppose  you  are  telling  this 
fine  story  of  yours  to  whoever  has  time  to  listen  to  it. ' ' 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Jack.  Everybody  is  telling  it  to 
me.     I  am  quite  tired  of  it." 

Jack  uttered  a  grunt,  and  left  her.  Meeting  Mrs. 
Herbert,  he  made  his  bow,  and  asked  where  Miss 
Sutherland  was. 

"She  is  in  the  conservatory,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert, 
hesitating.  "But  I  think  she  will  be  engaged  there 
for  some  time."  He  thanked  her,  and  wandered 
through  the  rooms  for  five  minutes.  Then,  his 
patience  being  exhausted,  he  went  into  the  conserva- 
tory, where  he  saw  Lady  Geraldine  apparently  argu- 
ing some  point  with  Mary,  who  stood  before  her 
looking  obstinately  downward. 

"It  is  quixotic  nonsense,"  Lady  Geraldine  was  say- 
ing as  Jack  entered.  "He  has  behaved  very  badly; 
and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do,  only  you  feel  bound 
to  put  yourself  in  a  false  position  to  screen  him." 

"That  is  where  I  disagree  with  you,  Lady  Geral- 
dine. I  think  my  position  the  true  one ;  and  the  one 
you  would  have  me  take,  the  false  one." 

"My  dear,  listen  to  me.  Do  you  not  see  that  your 
efforts  to  exculpate  Adrian  only  convince  people  of 
his  meanness?  The  more  you  declare  you  deserted 
him,  the  more  they  are  certain  that  it  is  a  case  of  sour 
grapes,  and  that  you  are  making  the  common  excuse 
of  girls  who  are  jilted.  Don't  be  angry  with  me — 
nothing  but  brutal  plain  speaking  will  move  you. 
You  told  Belle  Woodward — Belle  Saunders,  I  mean — 
that  the  fault  was  yours.  Do  you  suppose  she 
believed  you?" 


234  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Of  course,"  said   Mary,  vehemently,  but  evidently 
shocked  by  this  view  of  the  ease. 

"Then  you  are  mistaken,"  said   [ack,   advancing". 

"She    has  just  n    me   the   very    version    that    this 

v  lias  !y  put  to  you.  " 

Lady  GeraJ  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  a  way 

that    WOttld    have    swept   an    I  iry   man    specehl< 

m  tii'   •     m. 

M  iry,  accustomed  t<  >  him.  did  not  think  of  resenting 

his  interference,  and  said,     I   r  considering  distr<        lly 

for  a  moment,  .t   it    is   not    my   fault  if    Mrs.  S.mn- 

iy  what  is    not    tn:  I  cannot  adapt 

what  h.  ally  happened  to  what  she  or  anybody  el 

may  think.  " 

"I  don't  I  what  has  really  hap;  I,"  said  Jack. 

"But  I  or    tongue;    and    that    is    t 

proper    thing  yoU     to     do.      It     is     none    of    th- 

business.     It  is  i  ,  either,   to  whit< 

Herbert,    wh<       -  he  needs   it  or  not.     I  beg  your 
pardon,  ma'am,"  he  added,  turning  ceremoniously 
Lady  Geraldine.     "I  should    have    retin 
Mi  I  I  not  accidentally  over- 

heard   the   ea       Lent   advice   you    were  Qg    her." 

With   thai  ned  bow, 

and  went  aw. 

"Well,   really!'         1   Lady  Geraldine,  staring  after 
him.     "Is   this  the   newest  species  tistic  affecta- 

tion,   praj         It  used  to  be  pr  j,   or  loutish- 

ness,    or    exquisite    sensibility.       But    now    it    seems 

be    outspoken     common    ser.  e;     and     instead 
being    a    relief,    it    is   the   most    insufferable    affecta- 
tion  of  all.      My  dear:    I  hope   I   have  not   distressed 
you. ' ' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  235 

"Oh,  this  world  is  not  fit  for  any  honest  woman  to 
live  in,"  cried  Mary,  indignantly.  "It  has  some  base 
construction  to  put  on  every  effort  to  be  just  and  tell 
the  truth.  If  I  had  done  my  best  to  blacken  Adrian 
after  deserting  him,  I  should  be  at  no  loss  now  for 
approval  and  sympathy.  As  it  is,  I  am  striving  to  do 
what  is  right;  and  I  am  made  to  appear  contemptible 
for  my  pains." 

"It  is  not  a  very  honest  world,  I  grant  you,"  said 
Lady  Geraldine  quietly;  "but  it  is  not  so  bad  as  you 
think.  Young  people  quarrel  with  it  because  it  will 
not  permit  them  to  be  heroic  in  season  and  out  of 
season.  You  have  made  a  mistake;  and  you  want  to 
be  heroic  out  of  season  on  the  strength,  or  rather  the 
weakness  of  that  mistake.  I,  who  know  you  well,  do 
not  suppose,  as  Belle  Saunders  does,  that  you  are 
consciously  making  a  virtue  of  a  necessity;  but  I 
think  there  is  a  little  spiritual  pride  in  your  resolution 
not  to  be  betrayed  into  reproaching  Adrian.  In  fact, 
all  quixotism  is  tainted  with  spiritual  vain  glory;  and 
that  is  the  reason  that  no  one  likes  it,  or  even  admires 
it  heartily,  in  real  life.  Besides,  my  dear,  nobody 
really  cares  a  bit  how  Adrian  behaved  or  how  you 
behaved:  they  only  care  about  the  facts;  and  the 
facts,  I  must  say,  are  plain  enough.  You  and  Adrian 
were  unwise  enough  to  enter  into  a  long  engagement. 
You  got  tired  of  one  another — wait  till  I  have 
finished;  and  then  protest  your  fill.  Adrian  went 
behind  your  back  and  proposed  to  another  woman, 
who  was  more  honorable  than  he,  and  refused  to  let 
him  smuggle  her  into  your  place.  Then,  instead  of 
coming  to  demand  his  freedom  straightforwardly,  he 
came  to  fish  for  it — to  entrap  you  into  offering  it  to 


2 y>  Love  Among  the  Artists 

him;  and  he  succeeded.  The  honest  demand  came 
from  you  instead  of  fmm  him." 

"But  I  fished,  too,"  Baid  Mary,  piteously.  "I  was 
only  honest  when  lie  drove  me  to  it." 

"Of  COUrae,"  said  Lady  'ieraldine,  impatiently. 
"You  are   not  an  angel;  and  th-  aer  you  reconcile 

yourself  to  the  few  failings  which  you  share  with  the 
rest  of  us,  the  happier  you  will  be.  None  of  us  are 
honest    in   such   matters  except   when   our   conscience 

drives  us  to  it.     The  hjonestest  people  'y  those 

who  feel  the  constraint  soonest  and  strongest.     If  you 

had   held   out  a  little   longer,  Adrian  might  have  fore- 

illed  you.      I  say  he  t;   but,  in    my  opinion,  he 

would  most  bly  fastened    a   quarrel   on    you — 

about    Jack    or  somebody    else — and     got    out    of    his 

engagement  that  way." 

"Oh,    no;     for   he  't    Mr.    Jack,    and   said 

expressly  that  he  did  not  mind  him  at  all;  but  that  if 
he  hi  Lt    any   change   in   my    feelings,  I 

need  not  feel  bound  by  the  eng There:  I  know 

that  is  an  additional  proof  of  his  faithlessness  in  your 
eyes. " 

"It  is  a  proof  of  what  a  thorough  fool  a  man  must 
be,  to  expect  you  to  take  such  a  bait.  'Please  release 
me,  Mr.  Herbert,  that  I  may  gratify  my  fancy  for  Mr. 
Jack.'     That  is  such  a  likely   thing   for  a   woman   to 

say ! ' ' 

"I   hope   you   are   not   in   earnest   about   Mr.    Jack, 

Lady  Geraldine.' 

"I  am  not  pleased  about  him,  Mary.  These  friend- 
ships stand  in  a  girl's  way.  Of  course  I  know  you  are 
not  in  love  with  him — at  least,  accustomed  as  I  am  to 
the  folly  of  men  and  women  about  one  another,  even  I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  237 

cannot  conceive  such  infatuation;  but,  Mary,  do  not 
flourish  your  admiration  for  his  genius  (I  suppose  he 
has  genius)  in  the  faces  of  other  men." 

"  I  will  go  back  to  Windsor,  and  get  clear  of  Mr. 
Jack  and  Mr.  Herbert  both.  I  wish  people  would 
mind  their  own  business." 

4 'They  never  do,  dear.     But  it  is  time  for  us  to  go. 
Have  I  dashed  your  spirits  very  much?" 
Not  at  all,"  replied  Mary  absently. 
Then,  if  you  are  quite  gay,  you  need  not  object  to 
come  somewhere  with  me  this  evening." 

"You  mean  to  go  out  somewhere?  I  cannot,  Lady 
Geraldine.  I  should  only  be  a  wet  blanket.  I  am 
not  in  the  vein  for  society  to-day.  Thank  you,  all  the 
same, for  trying  to  rescue  me  from  my  own  thoughts." 

"Nonsense,  Mary.  You  must  come.  It  is  only  to 
the  theatre.  Mrs.  Herbert  and  we  two  will  make  a 
quiet  party.  After  what  has  passed  you  cannot  meet 
her  too  soon;  and  I  know  she  is  anxious  to  shew  that 
she  does  not  mean  to  take  Adrian's  part  against  you." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  of  that.  So  far  from  it,  that  I 
am  afraid  Adrian  will  think  I  am  going  to  her  to  com- 
plain of  him.  There,"  she  added,  seeing  that  this  last 
doubt  was  too  much  for  Lady  Geraldine's  patience: 
"I  will  come.  I  know  I  am  very  hard  to  please;  but 
indeed  I  did  not  feel  in  the  humor  for  theatre-going." 

"You  will  be  ready  at  half-past  seven?" 

Mary  consented;  sighed;  and  left  the  conservatory 
dejectedly  with  Lady  Geraldine,  who,  on  returning  to 
the  drawing-room  had  another  conference  with  Mrs. 
Herbert. 

Meanwhile  Jack,  after  chatting  a  while  with  Mrs. 
Saunders,    prepared  to   depart.     He  had  put  off  his 


L'        Among  the  Artists 

afternoon's    work    in    order   to   be   at    Mr.    Phipson's 

disposal;   and  he  felt  indolent  and   morally  lax  in  con- 

e,  stop]        .  as  he  made  his  way  to  the  door,  to 

;    to   several    ladies    who    !  n    received    even    a 

I     from   him.       (  »n   the   stairs   he   met   the   youngest 

Mi  iT8;  and  he  lingered  a  while 

chat  with  her.       He  then  went  down  to  the  hall,  and 

ttt  to  leave  the   h  he  heard  his  name 

pronounced  sweetly  behind   him.       lie  turned  and  saw 

tdy  Geraldini  whom  he        ed  in    unconcealed 

surprise. 

"I    forgot   to   thank   you    for   your   timely  aid   in  the 
rv,*'  she  said,  in  her  mo  OS  manner. 

"I    wonder  whether  yon  will  allow  me   to  ask   f< 

another  and  gr<  r." 

"What  is  it?"  said  Jack,  suspiciously. 
14 Mrs,    II  ly   Geraldine,   with 

polit  .tion  ibarrassment,  "         ing  to  make 

nse    Of    r..  at    the    theatre    th:  ..•;    and  she 

has  asked  M        Sutherland  the:         W< 

very  anxious  that  you  shoul  my  us,  if  you 

have  ni>  important  engagement.     As  I  am  the  nominal 

OW  ,  may  I    b<       '     u  to  come  with  us." 

Jack  was  I  d:   t:  .itation  was  unaccount- 

able to  him.  as  he  knew  perfectly  well  what  Lady 
Geraldine  thought  of  him.      Ir.  inswering,  he 

stood  looking1  at  her  in  a  perplexity  which  expressed 
itself  unconsci        j  in  hideous  grimace! 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  send  my  carriage  to  your 
house,"  she  said,  when   the  pause  became  unheal  able. 

"Yes.  No.  I'll  join  you  at  the  theatre.  Will  that 
do?" 

Lady  Geraldine,  resenting  his  manner,    put  strong 


Love  Among  the  Artists  239 

constraint  on  herself,  as,  with  careful  courtesy  she 
told  him  the  name  of  the  theatre  and  the  hour  of  the 
performance.  He  listened  to  her  attentively,  but 
gave  no  sign  of  assent.  When  she  had  finished  speak- 
ing, he  looked  absently  up  the  staircase ;  shewed  his 
teeth;  and  hammered  a  tune  on  his  chin  with  the  edge 
of  his  hat.  The  strain  on  Lady  Geraldine' s  for- 
bearance became  very  great  indeed. 

"May  we  depend  on  your  coming?"  she  said  at  last. 

"Why  do  you  want  me  to  come?"  he  exclaimed 
suddenly.     "You  don't  like  me." 

Lady  Geraldine  drew  back  a  step.  Then,  losing 
patience,  she  said  sharply,  "What  answer  do  you 
expect  me  to  make  to  that,  Mr.  Jack?" 

"None,"  said  he  with  mock  gravity.  "It  is 
unanswerable.  From  Capharsalama  on  eagle  wings 
I  fly."  And  after  making  her  another  bow,  he  left 
the  house  chuckling.  As  he  disappeared,  Mrs. 
Herbert  came  downstairs  and  joined  Lady  Geraldine. 

"Well,"  she  said.  "Is  Mary  to  be  made  happy  at 
our  expense?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Geraldine.  "I  bearded  the 
monster  here,  and  got  what  I  deserved  for  my  pains. 
The  man  is  a  savage." 

"I  told  you  what  to  expect." 

"That  did  not  make  it  a  bit  pleasanter.  You  had 
better  come  and  dine  with  me.  Sir  John  is  going  to 
Greenwich;  and  we  may  as  well  enjoy  ourselves 
together  up  to  the  last  moment." 

That  evening  Mary  Sutherland  reluctantly  accom- 
panied Mrs.  Herbert  and  Lady  Geraldine  to  the 
theatre,  to  witness  the  first  performance  in  England 
of  a  newly  translated  French  drama.     When  she  had 


2  |  i  Love  Among  the  Artists 

been  a  few  minutes  seated  in  their  box,  she  was  sur- 
prised by  the  entry  of  Jack,  whose  black  silk  kerchief, 
which  he  persisted  in  wearing  instead  of  a  ncckjie, 
wa         ured  v.        .i  white  pin,  shewing  that  lie  had 

dr<  elf  with   unusual  care. 

"  Mr.  Jack  !"  oed  Mary. 

"Just  SO,  Mr.  Jack,"  he  said,  hanging  his  only  hat, 
which  had  suffered  much  from  wet  weather  and  bad 
US  On    a    l  chind     the    d<x>r.      "Did     you     not 

expect  him?" 

Mary,    about   to   say   no,    h<  ind    -lanced    at 

Lad] 

"I  you   d:  aid   Jack,    placing   his  chair 

behind  hers.      "A    surprise,  eh?" 

"An  agreeable  surprise,"  -id  Mrs.  Herbert 
smoothly,  with  hei  fore  her  lip 

"An  a  tal  id  Lady  Geraldine.     I  for- 

got to  tell  Mi>s  Sutherland  that  you  had  been  good 
en  aise  to  come.  " 

Mrs.    Il<  hing  at  me,"  said  Jack,  good- 

humoredly.  e   you.      It   i^  you   who  were  good 

enough   to   ask    me,    net    I    who   v.  od   enough   to 

cor         Listen  to  th<  Those  eighteen  or  twenty 

.vers  cost  m<  r      than   six  good  ones  would,  and 
are   not   half  so  ;..         ible  to  listen  to.  i  you  hear 

what  they  are  playir..  Can  you  imagine  anyone 
writing  such  stuff v" 

"It    certainly   soum  'bgly  ugly;    but    I    am 

notoriously  unmusical,  so  my  opinion  is  not  worth 
anything. " 

"Still,  so  far  as  you  can  judge,  you  don't  like  it?" 

"Certainly  not." 
I   am  beginning    to    like  it,"   said   Mrs.    Herbert, 


( i 


Love  Among  the  Artists  241 

coolly.  "I  am  quite  aware  that  it  is  one  of  your  own 
compositions — or  some  arrangement  of  one." 

"Ha!  ha!  Souvenirs  de  Jack,  they  call  it.  This  is 
what  a  composer  has  to  surfer  whenever  he  goes  to  a 
public  entertainment,  Lady  Geraldine. " 

"In  revenge  for  which,  he  ungenerously  lays  traps 
for  others,  Mr.  Jack." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Jack,  suddenly  becoming 
moody.  "It  was  ungenerous;  but  I  shared  the  dis- 
comfiture.    There  they  go  at  my  fantasia.     Accursed 

be  the  man Hark!     The  dog  has  taken  it  upon 

himself  to  correct  the  harmony. ' '  He  ceased  speak- 
ing, and  leaned  forward  on  his  elbows,  grinding  his 
teeth  and  muttering.  Mary,  in  low  spirits  herself, 
made  an  effort  to  soothe  him. 

"Surely  you  do  not  care  about  such  a  trifle  as  that," 
she  began.     "What  harm " 

"You  call  it  a  trifle,"  he  said,  interrupting  her 
threateningly. 

"Certainly,"  interposed  Lady  Geraldine,  in  ironically 
measured  tones.  "A  composer  such  as  you  can  afford 
to  overlook  an  ephemeral  travesty  to  which  nobody  is 
listening.  Were  I  in  your  place,  I  would  not  suffer  a 
thought  of  resentment  to  ruffle  the  calm  surface  of  my 
contempt  for  it. ' ' 

"Wouldn't  you?"  said  Jack,  sarcastically.  "Tell  me 
one  thing.  You  are  very  rich — as  rich  in  money  as  I 
am  in  music.  Would  you  like  to  be  robbed  of  a 
sovereign?" 

"I  am  not  fond  of  being  robbed  at  all,  Mr.  Jack." 

"Aha!  Neither  am  I.  You  wouldn't  miss  the 
sovereign — people  would  think  you  stingy  for  thinking 
about  it.     Perhaps  I  can  afford  to  be  misrepresented 


Love   Among   the   Artists 

by  a  rascally  fiddler  for   a   few   nights  here   as  well  as 
ford  the  pound.  it  I  don't  like  it." 

"Y"ii  are  always  unanswerable,"  said   Lady  Geral- 
dine,  good  humoredly. 

Ja  up  and  looked  round  the  theatre.      "All 

tli'  .nd    his   wife    .ire    here    to-night,"  he   said. 

"That   whitc-1.  •  •ntlcman   hiding  at   the   back  of 

the   balcony   is   the   father  of  an  old  pupil  of  mine — a 
man  cursed  with  an  ongoverni  His  name 

BrailsfonL     Th      ;    nth  with  tin  i  in  the 

stall B  called  me  a  >ung  com- 

the  i  day.      Who  is  that  Coming  into  the  box 

nearly  The    S.-.czymplica,    is  it   not'      I   see 

Madame' 8  I  I   coming  tbi        h  the  inner  -loom. 

be    takes    tl  '.of  course,  just  as   naturally 

as  if  she   was  a  *  hild  at  her  first  pantonine        Tl. 

a  handsome  gent)        d  with  a  fair  limly  visible 

hind.     It  mi  '  in.     He  has  a  qu< 

notion  of  life — that  that 

lie  was  in  the  hat  chap's"  mother. 

Mrs.     Herbert    looked    round  at    him;    and 

Lady  Geraldin*  lb-  did  not  notice  them: 

he  was  watching  Marv,  who  had  shrunk  for  a  moment 
behind  the  curtain,  but  was  n  itting  in  full  view  of 

Herbert,  looku  tat  the  stage,  from  which  the 

curtain  had  just  -one  up. 

Nothing   more   w  I    in   the  until,  at  a  f< 

words    pronounced    behind    the    seems    by    a   stran;. 
voice.  Jack  uttered  an  inarticulate  md  stood  up. 

Then  there  came  upon  the  stage  a  lady,  very  pretty, 
very  elegantly  dress  d,  a  little  bold  in  her  manner,  a 
little  over-roughed,  fascinating  because  of  these  slight 
s,    but    stamped    by    them    as    foreign    to    the 


<<  I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  243 

respectable    society  into  which  she  was  supposed  to 
have  intruded. 

"Absurd!"  said  Mary  suddenly,  after  gazing 
incredulously  at  the  actress  for  a  moment.  "It  cannot 
be.  And  yet  I  verily  believe  it  is.  Lady  Geraldine : 
is  not  that  Madge  Brailsford?" 

"I  really  think  it  is,"  said  Lady  Geraldine,  using  her 
opera  glass.  "How  shockingly  she  is  painted!  And 
yet  I  don't  believe  it  is,  either.  That  woman  is 
evidently  very  clever,  which  Madge  never  was,  so  far 
as  I  could  see.     And  the  voice  is  quite  different." 

"Oho!"  said  Jack.  "It  was  I  who  found  that  voice 
for  her. ' ' 

Then  it  is  Madge,"  said  Mary. 

Of  course  it  is.  Rub  your  eyes  and  see  for  your- 
self." Mary  looked  and  looked,  as  if  she  could  hardly 
believe  it  yet.  At  the  end  of  the  act,  the  principal 
performers,  including  Magdalen,  were  called  before 
the  curtain  and  heartily  applauded.  Jack,  though 
contemptuous  of  popular  demonstrations,  joined  in 
this,  making  as  much  noise  as  possible,  and  impatiently 
bidding  Mary  take  off  her  gloves,  that  she  might  clap 
her  hands  with  more  effect.  A  moment  afterwards, 
there  was  a  hasty  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  box. 
Mary  looked  across  the  theatre;  saw  that  Adrian's 
chair  was  vacant;  and  turned  red.  Jack  opened  the 
door,  and  admitted,  not  Adrian,  but  Mr.  Brailsford, 
who  hurried  to  the  front  of  the  box;  shook  Lady 
Geraldine 's  hand  nervously;  made  a  hasty  bow  right 
and  left  to  Mary  and  Mrs.  Herbert ;  and,  after  making 
as  though  he  had  something  particular  to  say,  sat 
down  in  Jack's  chair  and  said  nothing.  He  was 
greatly  agitated. 


2. j }  I  j >ve  Among  the  Artists 

"Well,  Mr.   Brailstbrd/'  said  L  raldine,  smil- 

ing.    "Dare  I  congratulate  you?" 

t  a  word — not  a  w<  -:'.."  he  said,  as  if  he  wc 
ha".  'I   beg  your  •.  r  coming  into 

I  am  n  man — d        iced  by  my  own 

light         M  hter,  sir — madame — II 

your  in.     You  can  tell  this  young  lady  that 

sh'  my  fa\ 

"Hut   y  aist  not  take  her  brilliant  a  in  this 

way,"  ently,   looking  at    him 

v.       "And    :  that   you 

ha\ 

"Psl          Whish-h-h!"   hissed,    the    old  entleman, 

throwing    up    his   hand    and  his    fingers, 

"They  arc  all  :>  >rn            — 1        their  i  Shi  is 
like   me,  the  only     oe    that    is   like  mc. 

h  impudence?     A                 ght  up  as  sh      pas, 

walking  out                     in  K<  us 

on  to  the                                    a  Pai  . — 

i   the  li:  I"   wa  tioiL 

Vv  ly  that  fore 

ir  ladyship  rn.     I    remember  Miss  O'Neill, 

ay  d    Mrs.    1  a;      Mars,    1:  '..     Pi  imini! 

she's  better  thai.  m,  except   Mi^s  O'Neill— I 

was  ;  in  her  tim<  uldn't  be  kept  from 

it.      I  set  my  fat.  linst  it.  Lid  her  mother — who 

could  no  m<  ier  than  a  turnip  could.     So 

did   we  all.      We  locked   her  up;   we  took  her  money 
from   her;   I   thre  d  to  disown   her — and  so  I  will 

too;  but  she  had  her  in  spite  of  us  all.     Just  like 

me:  tly  like   me.      Why,    when   I    was  her  age,   I 

eared  no  more   for  my   family  than   I  did  for  Buona- 
parte.     It's  in  her  blu;<d.      I  should  have  been  on  the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  245 

stage  myself  only  it's  a  blackguard  profession;  and  a 
man  who  can  write  tragedy  does  not  need  to  act  it.  I 
will  turn  over  some  of  my  old  manuscripts;  and  she 
shall  show  the  world  what  her  old  father  can  do. 
And  did  you  notice  how  self-possessed  she  was?  I 
saw  the  nerves  under  it.  I  felt  them.  Nervousness 
always  played  the  devil  with  me.  I  tell  you,  madame 
— and  I  am  qualified  to  speak  on  the  subject — that  she 
walks  the  stage  and  gives  out  her  lines  in  the  true  old 
style.  You  don't  know  these  things,  Miss  Mary:  you 
are  too  young:  you  never  saw  great  acting.  But  I 
know.  I  had  lessons  from  the  great  Young:  Edmund 
Kean  was  a  mountebank  beside  him.  I  was  the  best  pupil 
of  Charles  Mayne  Young,  and  of  little  Dutch  Sam — 
but  that  was  another  matter.  No  true  lady  would 
paint  her  face  and  make  an  exhibition  of  herself  on 
a  public  stage  for  money.  Still,  it  is  a  most  extra- 
ordinary thing  that  a  young  girl  like  that,  without  any 
teaching  or  preparation,  should  walk  out  of  a  drawing 
room  on  to  the  stage,  and  take  London  by  storm." 

"But  has  she  not    had    some   little  experience  in 
the  provinces?"  said  Mary. 

Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Brailsford  impatiently. 
Strolling  about  with  a  parcel  of  vagabond  panto- 
mimists  is  not  experience — not  proper  experience  for 
a  young  lady.  She  is  the  first  Brailsford  that  ever 
played  for  money  in  a  public  theatre.  She  is  not  a 
Brailsford  at  all.  I  have  forbidden  her  to  use  the 
name  she's  disgraced." 

"Come,"  said  Lady  Geraldine.     "You  are  proud  of 
her.     You  know  you  are." 

"I  am  not.     I  have  refused  to  see  her.     I  have  dis- 
owned her.     If  I  caught  one  of  her  sisters  coming  to 


it 


[6  Love  Among  the  Artist 

witness  this  indecent  French  play  of  which  she  is  the 

life    and    BOUl — what    would    it    be    without    her,     Lady 

raldine?    Tell  me  that." 

"It  would  be  the  dullest  business  imaginable." 

"Hal    ha:"   cried    Brailsford,    with    a    triumphant 

•sture:  "I  should  think  bo.  Dull  as  ditchwater. 
Her    v.  me  would    draw  all    London  to  listen. 

Perhaps  you  think  that  I  taught  her  to  ik.  I  tell 
y<>u,  Mrs.   Herbert,  I  would  ha-.  with  my 

vn  hand  as        i  as  trail  uch  a  pro:         n. 

Who  •  it  her  then?     Why " 

"I    did,"        id  Mr.     Brail  I,    who    had    not 

noticed     his    pre  t    him,     and 

stiffened  as  he  di 

"I  bel  Qted  with    Mr. 

Jack."    said     Lady     G       Mine,     watching     them     with 

me  anxiety. 

"YOU    -<  -'  what   she    has  in..  '.;","     aid  Jaek, 

looking   h  ..t    him.      "I    1.  1     her   to    do   it:   you 

Which  of  us  was  in  th 

"I  will  n<  •  that  question  v.-  >u,  sir," 

Mr.   Bra  his  glov  •. 

44 I    do  d<  '  e  of  my  dau  pr    eedings." 

lie   turned    from   Jack    to    Mrs.    H<  1    made   a 

brave    -  hat    with   her  with  a  jaunty  air.      4,A 

distinguished  audience,  to-night  I  think  I  sav  <e- 
where  in  the  house,  your  son,  not  the  least  dis- 
tinguished of  us.  Painting  is  a  noble  art.  I  remember 
when  painters  did   not   star.       .     well  in  -      as  tin 

do  now;  but  never  in  my  life  have  I  failed  in  respect 
for  them.  Never.  A  man  is  the  better  for  contem- 
plating a  great  picture.  Your  son  has  an  enviable 
career  before  him. " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  247 

"So  I  am  told.' 

"Not  a  doubt  of  it.  He  is  a  fine  young  man — as  he 
indeed  could  not  fail  to  be  with  such  an  inheritance  of 
personal  graces  and  mental  endowments." 

"He  is  very  like  his  father." 

"Possibly,  madame,"  said  Mr.  Brailsford,  bowing. 
"But  I  never  saw  his  father." 

"Whatever  his  career  may  be,  I  shall  have  little  part 
in  it.  I  did  not  encourage  him  to  become  an  artist.  I 
opposed  his  doing  so  as  well  as  I  could.  I  was  mis- 
taken, I  suppose:  it  is  easier  than  I  thought  to  become 
a  popular  painter.  But  children  never  forgive  such 
mistakes." 

"Forgive!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brailsford,  his  withered 
cheek  reddening  faintly.  ' '  If  you  have  forgiven  him  for 
disregarding  your  wishes,  you  can  hardly  believe  that 
he  will  be  so  unnatural  as  to  cherish  any  bad  feeling 
towards  you.     Eh?" 

"It  is  not  unnatural  to  resent  an  unmerited  wound 
to  one's  vanity.  If  I  could  honestly  admire  Adrian's 
work  even  now,  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  consent  to 
be  reconciled  to  me  in  time.  But  I  cannot.  His 
pictures  seem  weak  and  sentimental  to  me.  I  can  see 
the  deficiencies  of  his  character  in  every  line  of  them. 
I  always  thought  that  genius  was  an  indispensable 
condition  to  success." 

"Ha!  ha!"  said  Jack.  "What  you  call  success  is 
the  compensation  of  the  man  who  has  no  genius.  If 
you  had  believed  in  his  genius,  and  yet  wanted  suc- 
cess for  him,  you  might  have  opposed  him  with  better 
reason.  Some  men  begin  by  aiming  high,  and  they 
have  to  wait  till  the  world  comes  up  to  their  level. 
Others  aim  low,  and  have  to  lift  themselves  to  success. 


2  :  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 

Happy  follows  like   Mr.  Adrian   hit  the  mark  at  on. 
being  neither  too  good  for  the  Academy  people  nor 
too  I  ublic. " 

•'Probably  yon  are  right,"  said  ^-'s-  Herbert.  "I 
should  have  borne  in  mind  that  worse  painters  than  he 
enjoy   a    fair   sha  I    toleration.      However,    I    must 

ide  by  my  error  now.  " 

"I  irely, "  said  Mr.  Brailsfofd,  harping  anxiously 

on  the  point,  "yon  do  not  find  that  he  persists  in  any 
little  feeling  of  di  intment  that  you  may    have 

him  formerly.      No,  no:   h        .  ,'t  do  that.       He 

must  see  that  you  \  tuated  by  the  truest  regard 

for  his  welfare  and — and  so  forth." 

"I    find   that  his  obstinacy,  or  j  ance  rath' 

is  as  evident  in  his  :  :ment   against  me  as  it  was  in 

his  determination  to  make  himself  an  artist  in  spit 
of  me.  •' 

Mr.    Brail  nbled,   bit  his  nail,  and  glanc 

at    Mrs.    Herbert    tv  or   thrice,    without    speakin. 

Lady  aldine  watched  him  for  a  moment,  and   then 

said : 

"There  nee    between  voir  I  and  M: 

Herbert's." 

"of  com  he  said,  hurriedly.  "Oh,  of  eourse. 
Quite  different     I  was  not  thinking  of  any  such " 


i  t 


And  yet,'  continued  Lady  Geraldine,  "there  is 
ne  likeness  too.  You  both  opposed  your  children 
tastes.  But  Mrs.  Herbert  does  not  believe  in 
Adrian's  talent,  although  she  is  glad  lie  has  made  a 
position  for  himself.  Yon,  on  the  contrary,  are 
carried  away  by  Magdalen's  talent;  but  you  are  indig- 
nant at  the  position  it  has  made  for  her." 

"I  am  not  carried  away.      You  entirely  misappre- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  249 

hend  my  feelings.  I  deeply  deplore  her  conduct.  I 
have  ceased  to  correspond  with  her  even,  since  she  set 
my  feelings  at  defiance  by  accepting  a  London  engage- 
ment." 

"In  short,"  said  Lady  Geraldine,  with  good-humored 
raillery,  "you  would  not  speak  to  her  if  she  were  to 
walk  into  this  box. ' ' 

Mr.  Brailsford  started  and  looked  round;  but  there 
was  no  one  behind  him:  Jack  had  disappeared. 
"No,"  he  said,  recovering  himself.  "Certainly  not. 
I  cannot  believe  that  she  would  venture  into  my 
presence." 

The  curtain  went  up  as  he  spoke.  When  Madge 
again  came  on  the  stage,  her  business  was  of  a  more 
serious  character  than  in  the  first  act,  and  displayed 
the  heartless  determination  of  the  adventuress  rather 
than  her  amusing  impudence.  Lady  Geraldine, 
admiring  a  certain  illustration  of  this,  turned  with  an 
approving  glance  to  Mr.  Brailsford.  He  was  looking 
fixedly  at  the  stage,  no  longer  triumphant,  almost 
haggard.  He  seemed  relieved  when  the  actress,  being 
supposed  to  recognize  an  old  lover,  relented,  and 
showed  some  capacity  for  sentiment.  When  the  act 
was  over,  he  still  sat  staring  nervously  at  the  curtain. 
Presently  the  box  door  opened;  and  he  again  looked 
round  with  a  start.  It  was  Jack,  who,  returning  his 
testy  regard  with  a  grim  smile,  came  close  to  him; 
stretched  an  arm  over  his  head ;  and  pulled  over  one 
of  the  curtains  of  the  box  so  as  to  seclude  it  from  the 
house.     Mr.  Brailsford  rose,  trembling. 

"I  absolutely  refuse "  he  began. 

Jack  opened  the  door;  and  Madge,  with  her  dress 
covered  by  a  large  domino  cloak,   hurried  in.      She 


o  Love   Among  the  Artists 

thiv  ik  as  soon  as  the  I    >r  was  closed,  and 

then  1   her   father  ami   kissed  him.       lie  said  with 

dil  "My     '.ear   child";   Bat     down;   ami   bent   his 

id,  "'.  I  by  emotion  for  the  moment.     She 

Btood  with  her  hand  on  his  shou        .  ami  bowed  over 

him    in   a  manner   to  Mary,  whom 

L  at  "M        Sutherland, "  and  to  the  othei 

"I    hav  to    lie    here,"    she    said,    in    a 

netrating  whi  "It  i  £  ruli        But  when 

Mr.  Jack  came  in  that  my  Esther  was  here, 

I  could  to  him  go  withoul  iking  to  him." 

Lady  G<  raldim  She  and  I  iniona 

had  .e    Madge  with  frank  am 

Hon;  but  her  e  and  manner  quite  discon- 

certed   them.     They    r<  her    .is    a    pretty, 

tulant  young  I  they  had  a  I       ly  seen  her  i 

one  only  two  minutes  before  on   th<  ,e.       Vet  here 

entry  two  minutes 

not    only    h  but    in    frame.       The    Blight    and 

mt  la  a  the  box  a  1  strong 

woman,    with    resonant   voice     ami     measured    speech. 

Even    her  h  tted   her   father's   shoulder, 

m  rhythmically         if  th<  were  studied. 

The  kindly  |   itl  e   with  which  I-  ne  had 

willing  I  i    impul  i  'ever  young 

is  forgotten  in  the  mixt         of  respect,  disap- 

>intm<         ind  eyen  avei         inspired  by  the  self-con- 

t  and  accomplished  woman.      Mars- 
was  the  firs  er  hers< 

id: — "that  is,  if  one  may  venture  to 
11  you  Mad 

"Indeed  you  may,"  said  Madge,  nodding  and  smiling 
gracefully. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  251 

"You  are  a  great  deal  more  like  yourself  on  the 
stage  than  off  it." 

"Yes, "  said  Madge.  "For  the  last  two  and  a  half 
years,  I  have  not  taken  a  single  holiday. ' ' 

Mr.  Brailsford  now  sat  upright;  coughed;  and 
looked  severely  round.  His  lip  relaxed  as  his  gaze 
fell  on  Magdalen;  and  after  an  apprehensive  glance 
at  her,  he  lost  his  assurance  even  more  obviously  than 
the  others. 

"You  have  grown  a  good  deal,  I  think,  my  child," 
he  said  nervously. 

"Yes.  I  hardly  expected  you  to  know  me.  You 
are  looking  better  than  ever.     How  are  the  girls?" 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  my  dear.     Quite  well." 

"And  mother?" 

"Oh,  she  is  well.  A  little  rheumatism,  of  course; 
and — a " 


<  i 


I  shall  come  and  see  you  all  to-morrow,   at  one 
o'clock.     Be  sure  to  stay  at  home  for  me,  won't  you?" 

"Certainly.  Certainly.  We  shall  be  very  glad  to 
see  you. ' ' 

"Now  I  must  run  away;  and  I  shall  not  see  you 
again  to-night  except  across  the  footlights,  Mr. 
Jack:  my  domino."  Jack  put  the  cloak  upon  her 
shoulders.  "Is  the  corridor  empty?"  Jack  looked 
out  and  reported  it  empty.  "I  must  give  you  one 
more  kiss,  father."  She  did  so;  and  on  this  occasion 
Mr.  Brailsford  did  not  exhibit  emotion,  but  merely 
looked  dazed.  Then  she  bowed  as  sweetly  as  before 
to  Lady  Geraldine  and  Mrs.  Herbert. 

"Good  night,  Madge,"  said  Mary,  putting  up  her 
spectacles,  and  peering  boldly  at  her. 

Good  night,   dear,"  said  Madge,  passing  her  arm 


**, 


t  . 


I  a  >ve  Ami  >ng  the  Artists 

round   Mary's  neck,  and  stooping  to  kiss  her.      "Come 

tomorrow;  and  I  will  tell  you  all  the  news  about 
myself.     May  I  fly  now,  Mr.  Jack] 

"Conn-         \g,"  Jack;    and    she   tripped    out, 

whisking  her  domino  de  through  the  narrow 

ad  Xi  for  an  instant  her  small  foot. 

There  was  -in   awkward  silence  in   the  box  for  some 

moment  It  was  broken  by  the  chuck- 

ling i  ntly  to  Mary,  ** When 

I  first  saw   that  y  lie   v  helpless  good- 

for-nothing      • 

And    now,"    said    M  'is   an     independent 

woman,  and  an  implisl  Ienvyher!" 

Why?"  sail  Jack. 

Bi  he  is  ol  use  in  the  world.  '* 

If  you  will  allow  m<  ."    ..  I   Mr,  Brailsford,  rising 
bu         ".y,  "I  will     turn  to  my    wn  place,    [aminoom- 

m<  < '.  at."        He 

hand  to  Lad     Geraldine;  made 

a    courtly     d  tral  Mary    and     Ml 

lie  I   to  j  I  >n   his  way  to  the  door 

stopped;   conf:  ad   made   him   a  grave 

bow,  which  was  returned  with  equal  dignity.  Then 
he   went   OUl         wly,  ]  n    infirm  old   man,  without 

any  sign  of  his  habitual  jauntine 
"Poor  d  k. 

I  beg  y  I  L     ly  Cieraldine  sharply. 

He  finds  1.  t   baby  changed  into  a  woman;  and 

he  doesn't  1:  Id  Jack,  not  heeding  her  remon- 

strance. "N  -w,  if  she  were  still  the  cream-colored, 
helpless  little  beauty  she  used  to  be,  quite  dependent 
on  him,  he  would  be  i  hted  to  have  such  a  pretty 

domestic  toy  to  play  with. 


•  < 


Love  Among  the  Artists  253 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Lady  Geraldine.  "But  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  parental  feeling;  and  it  is  possible  that 
Mr.  Brailsford  may  not  be  philosopher  enough  to 
rejoice  at  a  change  which  has  widened  the  distance 
between  her  youth  and  his  age." 

"He  need  not  be  alarmed,"  said  Jack.  "If  he  can- 
not make  a  toy  of  her  any  longer,  she  can  make  a  toy 
of  him.  She  is  thinking  already  of  setting  up  a  white 
haired  father  as  part  of  her  equipment :  I  saw  the  idea 
come  into  the  jade's  head  whilst  she  was  looking 
down  at  him  in  that  chair.  He  looked  effective.  This 
family  affection  is  half  sense  of  property,  and  half 
sense  of  superiority.  Miss  Sutherland — who  is  no  use 
in  the  world,  poor  young  lady — had  not  such  property 
in  Miss  Brailsford  as  her  father  expected  to  have,  and 
no  such  comfortable  power  of  inviting  her  to  parties 
and  getting  her  married  as  you  look  forward  to.  And 
consequently,  she  was  the  only  one  who  bore  the 
change  in  her  with  a  good  grace,  and  really  welcomed 
her." 

"I  am  not  conscious  of  having  been  otherwise  than 
perfectly  friendly  to  her." 

"Ain't  you?"  said  Jack,  sceptically.  Lady  Geraldine 
reddened  slightly ;  then  smiled  in  spite  of  her  vexa- 
tion, and  said,  "Really,  Mr.  Jack,  you  are  a  sort  of 
grown  up  enfant  terrible,  I  confess  that  I  was  a  little 
overpowered  by  her  staginess.  I  can  understand 
actors  being  insufferably  stagey  on  the  boards,  and 
quite  natural  in  a  room ;  but  I  cannot  make  out  how  an 
actress  can  be  perfectly  natural  on  the  boards,  and 
stagey  in  private." 

"Acting  has  become  natural  to  her;  and  she  has  lost 
the  habit  of  your  society;    that  is  all.     As  you  say, 


254  Love  Among  the  Artists 

acting  never  becomes  natural    to  bad  actors.      There 
she  comes  again. " 

!"':•-•  charm  i        nsiderably  weak         ."  said  Lady 
.  turning  I        rd  the  stage.  -  b  not 

em  half  so  real  as  she  did  before." 

d    as   si  ally  as  it  had  begun. 

The  ti  lis  for  the    auth< 

and  Miss  Ma         Lain  took  the  lion's  share  of  the 

the  Then    the    pit   and    galleries 

em  pi  ith  much  tramp- 

ling Tl  :'  the  •    Qsive 

.  the  crush-room, 
cr.  .  time:   the  men  si  t  forward 

at    ev  advance:     tl.  \  :rm     he 

wrappin  with  one  ha:  ing  awkward 

on  to  the  i  of  gentl  h  the  other.     La 

•raid-  t  Mr.   Brailsford         she 

de  ray,  as  if  to 

avoid    f  'U.  k,    who   had    amu 

her  '  emotion  at  tin-  pathetic  pas- 

.1  wh  D  silent,  walked 

letained  for  some 
minul       in    the  vestibule,  tman 

*.  hand. 

l'(  id    J  a         sulkily.      "Here   is   somebody 

happy  at  I 

Mary  I     Iced    and  saw  Herbert  cominj         .vn   the 

stairs  with  A  .  who   w.  ke  Jack,  the  subject  of 

e  whispering  and  pointL 

"Yes,"  said  Mary.  "lie  is  happ  I  do  not  wonder 
at  it:   she  is  v  1   lovely.      She  is  a  greater 

artist   than    Madge:    yet    she    has    none    of    Madge's 

jurance,  which  would  repel  Adrian." 


I  i 


Love  Among  the  Artists  255 

"She  has  plenty  of  assurance  in  music,  which  is  her 
trade.  Miss  Madge  has  plenty  of  assurance  in 
manners,  which  are  Jier  trade." 

I  am  just  thinking,  Geraldine,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert, 
of  the  difference  between  Adrian  and  that  girl — 
Madge  Brailsford.  She,  capable,  sensible,  able  to  hold 
her  own  against  the  world.  She  is  everything,  in 
short,  that  Adrian  is  not,  and  that  I  have  often  wished 
him  to  be.  Yet  her  father  seems  as  far  from  being 
united  to  her  as  Adrian  is  from  me.  Query  then :  is 
there  any  use  in  caring  for  one's  children?  I  really 
don't  believe  there  is." 

"Not  the  least,  after  they  have  become  independent 
of  you,"  said  Lady  Geraldine,  looking  impatiently 
towards  the  door.  "Where  is  Williams?  I  think  he 
must  have  gone  mad. ' ' 

At  this  moment  Aurelie,  recognizing  Mrs.  Herbert, 
made  as  though  she  would  stop,  and  said  something  to 
Adrian  which  threw  him  into  trouble  and  indecision 
at  once.  Apparently  she  was  urging  him,  and  he 
making  excuses,  taking  care  not  to  look  towards  his 
mother.  This  dumb  show  was  perfectly  intelligible 
to  Mrs.  Herbert,  who  directed  Lady  Geraldine's 
attention  to  it. 

It  is  all  Williams's  fault,"  said  Lady  Geraldine. 
We  should  have  been  out  of  this  five  minutes  ago. 
You  had  better  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  at  once, 
Eliza.     Go  and  speak  to  him — the  vacillating  idiot!' 

"I  will  not,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert.  "I  hope 
he  will  have  the  firmness  to  make  her  go  away. ' ' 

The  question  was  settled  by  the  appearance  of  Lady 
Geraldine's  servant,  who  hurried  in,  and  began  to 
explain  the  delay. 


1 1 


2^6  Love  Among  the  Artists 


D 


>  . 


There.     I  do  Dot  want  to  hear  anything  about  it," 
said  Lady  Geraldine.     "Now,  where  is  Mary 
Mary  was  already  hastening  out  with  Jack.    Herbert 

saw    them    go   with   a   sensation    of    relief.       When    he 

bed  hi  -  he  was  disagreeably  relieved  from 

me  remora         having  av        I  Mary.     On  the  table 

i  parcel  containing  all  his  letters  and  presents  to 

her,  with  a  note — beginning  "Dear  Mr.   Herbert" — 

in  which  she  sai  I      r .■  fly  that  on   second   thoughts  she 
it    best    '         How   the    usual     course,     and 
bej        I   him   to    believe   that  she   was,    sincerely   his, 
Mary  Sutherland. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Next  day,  in  the  afternoon,  Jack  left  the  room,  the 
establishment  of  a  celebrated  firm  of  pianoforte  manu- 
facturers, where  he  gave  his  lessons,  and  walked  home- 
ward across  Hyde  Park.  Here  he  saw  approaching 
him  a  woman,  dressed  in  light  peacock  blue,  with  a 
pale  maize  colored  scarf  on  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  a  large  Spanish  hat.  Jack  stood  still  and  looked 
gloomily  at  her.  She  put  on  a  pair  of  eye  glasses; 
scrutinized  him  for  a  moment;  and  immediately  shook 
them  off  her  nose  and  stopped. 

"You  have  finished  work  early  to-day,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

"I  have  not  finished  it,"  he  replied:  "I  have  put 
them  off.     I  want  to  go  home  and  work :  I  cannot  spend 
my  life  making  money — not  that  I  am  likely  to  have 
the  chance.     Four  lessons — five  guineas — lost." 
You  wrote  to  them,  I  hope." 

'No.  They  will  find  out  that  I  am  not  there  when 
they  call;  and  then  they  can  teach  themselves  or  go 
to  the  devil.  They  would  put  me  off  sooner  than  lose 
a  tennis  party.  I  will  put  them  off  sooner  than  lose  a 
good  afternoon's  work.  I  am  losing  my  old  inde- 
pendence over  this  money-making  and  society  business 
— I  don't  like  it.  No  matter.  Are  you  on  your  way 
to  Cavendish  Square?" 

"Yes.  But  you  must  not  turn  back.  You  did  not 
sacrifice  your  teaching  to  gad  about  the  park  with  me. 
You  want  to  compose.     I  know  by  your  face." 

257 


II' 


mm 


8  Lc        Vmong  the  Artists 


"Arc  you  in  a  hurry"'' 

14  /  am  not;  but " 

"Then  come  an  rat,  b        d  call  it,  for  a 

whil<        It    is   t'-o   fine   a  day  to  go  ind  and  grind 

tunes. " 
She  turned;  and  th<  y  ross  the  plain 

n   th«  pent::1.'-    and    the    Baysw  id, 

crossing  king  their 

way  amoi  i  who    la-  :;••    on    the    grass 

aslee]  the   sun.      It  was  a  warm 

md  the  sky  w 

"Yo  uld  not  ■  Id  lool 

pl<  •    ^  it  "  s  it  i 

J  tck,  when  they  had  v  »me  time  in  sil< 

'It isn  .  ■  ilL     I i  you  w< 

a   little   ol  I      m,  this  BUnlil  and 

foliage  won*.  •  all  the  stupidit  people 

who  ha\  •  :." 

'*.'.  A:v  t   their   art   is   an 

I   held  np  a  lying,  t  re  l<  h< 

or.  to  t  inter,  and 

re  him  as  unir  uld  d  pt 

li  T  bin  as  a  COm- 

on    for  her  corrupt  heart,   he   would  rail   n. 
names  —  :yni    .  nalist,  and  -<»  forth     What  better 

is  he  with  his  There  are 

m<         I     when  I   should  like  to  see  a  good  hissinj 
arching  sh« >-  rimston<       trail  the  beauty  out 

of  her  false  fac< 

"Oh!     What,  is  the  matter  to-day 

"S]  leen  I    am   poor.      It  is   the   source   of 

m<  le's  complaints.  " 

"But  you  arc   not  i.^or.      Recollect    that  you   have 


Love  Among  the  Artists  259 

just  thrown  away  five  guineas,  and  that  you  will  make 
ten  to-morrow. " 

"I  know." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  are  guineas  wealth  to  a  man  who  wants  time 
and  freedom  from  base  people  and  base  thoughts? 
No:  I  have  starved  out  the  first  half  of  my  life  alone: 
I  will  fight  through  the  second  half  on  the  same  con- 
ditions. I  get  ten  guineas  a  day  at  present  for  teach- 
ing female  apes  to  scream,  that  they  may  be  the  better 
qualified  for  the  marriage  market.  That  is  because  I 
am  the  fashion.  How  long  shall  I  remain  the  fashion? 
Until  August,  when  the  world — as  it  calls  itself — will 
emigrate,  and  return  next  spring  to  make  the  fortune 
of  the  next  lucky  charlatan  who  makes  a  bid  for  my 
place.  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  them,  in  spite  of 
their  guineas:  teaching  them  wastes  my  time,  and 
does  them  no  good.  Then  there  is  the  profit  on  my 
compositions,  of  which  I  get  five  per  cent,  perhaps  in 
money,  with  all  the  honor  and  glory.  The  rest  goes 
into  the  pockets  of  publishers  and  concert  givers,  some 
of  whom  will  go  down  half-way  to  posterity  on  my 
back  because  they  have  given  me,  for  a  symphony  with 
the  fruits  of  twenty  years'  hard  work  in  it,  about  one- 
fifth  of  what  is  given  for  a  trumpery  picture  or  novel 
everyday.  That  fantasia  of  mine  has  been  pirated  and 
played  in  every  musical  capital  in  Europe ;  and  I  could 
not  afford  to  buy  you  a  sable  jacket  out  of  what  I  have 
made  by  it." 

"It  is  very  hard,  certainly.  But  do  you  really  care 
about  money?" 

"Ha!  ha!  No,  of  course  not.  Music  is  its  own 
reward.     Composers  are  not  human :  they  can  live  on 


260  Love  Among  the  Artists 

diminished  ths;   and   be  contented  with   a  piano- 

rtc  for  a  wife,  an  tring  quartette  for  a  family. 

Come,"  I  rumbling. 

When  [  took  I  I             I  was  bringing  my 

a  bad  mark-  I  But  don't  pretend  to  believe 

that  a  com]       r  can  ti  fy  either  his  appetite  or  his 

at         us  with  mn  :y  more  than  a  butcher  or  a 

in.      I  I  shall  live  all  the  more  epiietly 

fur  being  a 

►uld  care  to  marry. " 
>  von  that  I 

- 

"I    •         ht    yon   -.•  ur    enf< 

he  n  He   frowned;  and 

sh<  :s.  meh<       '  she  .         1.  "  I  can- 

not fan  married  man. " 

"Wl.  ornin]  7  upon  her.     "Ami 

a  fish,  or  a  musical  I  Why  have  I  less  right  to  the 

anion  ti<  ■   than        1  her  man?" 

"'  much    1     At."'    she    said, 

.ark  Id    have    hurt    him. 

uBut    1    have   known    yon    so    long    as   yon   are  at 

:it " 

"V. 

"A  sort  of  i:  hermit,"  she  replied,  undaunt< 

"It  seem;  if  marriage  would  he  an  impossible  con- 
descension on  your  part.  That  is  only  a  fancy,  I 
know.      I:     .     :   could   find   any  woman   worthy  of  you 

and   able   to   ma-.  1   happy,    I   think   yon  ought   to 

marry.     I  should  I  Lighted  t>>  see  you  surrounded 

by  a  pack  of  naughty  children.  You  would  never  be 
an  Ogre  any   more  then." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  an  ogre,  then?     Eh 
sometimes.     To-day,  for  instance,  I  think  you  are 


Love  Among  the  Artists  261 

decidedly  ogreish.  I  hope  I  am  not  anoying  you  with 
my  frivolity.     I  am  unusually  frivolous  to-day." 

"Hm!  You  seem  to  me  to  be  speaking  to  the  point 
pretty  forcibly.  So  you  would  like  to  see  me 
married?" 

4 'Happily  married,  yes.  I  should  be  glad  to  think 
that  your  lonely,  gloomy  lodging  was  changed  for  a 
cheerful  hearth ;  and  that  you  had  some  person  to  take 
care  of  your  domestic  arrangements,  which  you  are 
quite  unfit  to  manage  for  yourself.  Now  that  you 
have  suggested  the  idea,  it  grows  on  me  rapidly.  May 
I  set  to  work  to  find  a  wife  for  you?" 

"Of  course  it  does  not  occur  to  you,"  he  said,  with 
unabated  ill  humor,  "that  I  may  have  chosen  for  my- 
self already — that  I  might  actually  have  some  senti- 
mental bias  in  the  business,  for  instance." 

Mary,  much  puzzled,  put  on  her  spectacles,  and  tried 
to  find  from  his  expression  whether  he  was  serious  or 
joking.  Failing,  she  laughed,  and  said,  "I  don't 
believe  you  ever  gave  the  matter  a  thought." 

"Just  so.  I  am  a  privileged  mortal,  without  heart 
or  pockets.  When  you  wake  up  and  clap  your  hands 
after  the  coda  of  Mr.  Jack's  symphony,  you  have 
ministered  to  all  his  wants,  and  can  keep  the  rest  to 
yourself,  love,  money,  and  all." 

She     could     no    longer    doubt     that    he     was     in 

earnest:  his  tone  touched  her.     "I  had  no  idea " 

she  began.  "Will  you  tell  me  who  it  is;  or  am  I  not 
to  ask?" 

He  grinned  in  spite  of  himself.  "What  do  you 
think  of  Mrs.  Simpson?"  said  he. 

Mary's  mood  had  taken  so  grave  a  turn  that  she  was 
for  a  moment  unable  to  follow  this  relapse  into  banter. 


26-?  Love  AmonL'  the  Artists 


b 


"Hut,"  she  said,  looking  shocked,  "Mr.  Simpson  is 
alive." 

"Hence  my  unhappiness. "  said  Jack,  with  a  snarl, 
disgusted  at  her  entertaining  his  suggestion. 

"I  sup;  he  said  slowly,  after  a  pause  of  some 

moments,  "that  y< >n  mean  to  make  me  feel  that  I  have 
no  business  with  your  private  affairs.  I  did  not 
mean " 

"You  su:  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  he,  losing 

his  temper.     "When    have    I    concealed   any  of  my 
affairs  from  you 
"Then  you  do  not  really  intend  to I  mean,  the 

person  yon  said  you  were  in  l<  :th,  is  a  myth." 

"Pshaw!     I  never  said  1  was  in  love   with  anyone.*' 
"I  might   have   known  as  much  if  I  had  thought  for 

a  moment.      I  am  very  dull  time1 

This  ch    did    not    satisfy   Jack.      "What   do   y 

mean    by    that"'    1  "Why   might    y 

have   known?      I    never   B    :  I    I       as   in    love,       :     duly. 

I  Live  I  said  I  was  not   in  love 

"Come,"    she    said   gaily.      "You   shall   not    play 

shuttl  k    with   my  brains   any  longer.      Answer    me 

plainly.     Are  you  in  love! 

"I  tell  such  things  as  that  to  sincere  friends  only." 

Mary    suddenly  to     smile,     and     made     no 

reply. 

"Well,  if  you  arr  my  friend,  what  the  devil  do  you 
see    in   my    affairs  I    at?      You    can    be    serious 

enough  with  other  p 

"I  did  not  mean  to  laugh  at  your  affairs.*' 

"What  are  you  angry  about?" 

"I  am  not  angry.  moment  ago  you  reproached 

me    because    I     thought    you     wished    to    repel    my 


Love  Among  the  Artists  263 

curiosity.     The  reproach  seemed  to  me  to  imply  that 
you  considered  me  a  friend  worthy  of  your  confidence. " 

"So  I  do." 
And  now  you  tell  me  that  I  am  an  insincere  friend. " 
I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind." 

"You  implied  it.  However,  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  tell  me  anything  unless  you  wish  to.  I  do 
not  complain,  of  course;  your  affairs  are  your  affairs 
and  not  mine.  But  I  do  not  like  to  be  accused  of 
insincerity.  I  have  always  been  as  sincere  with  you  as 
I  know  how  to  be. " 

For  the  next  minute  Jack  walked  on  in  silence,  with 
his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  his  head  bent 
towards  the  ground.  They  were  crossing  a  treeless 
part  of  the  park,  unoccupied  save  by  a  few  sooty 
sheep.  The  afternoon  sun  had  driven  the  loiterers 
into  the  shade;  and  there  was  no  sound  except  a 
distant  rattle  of  traffic  from  the  north,  and  an 
occasional  oarsplash  from  the  south.  Jack  stopped, 
and  said  without  looking  up : 

"Tell  me  this.     Is  all  that  business  between  you  and 
Herbert  broken  off  and  done  with?" 
Completely." 

Then  listen  to  me,"  he  said,  taking  an  attitude  in 
which  she  had  seen  him  once  or  twice  before,  when  he 
had  been  illustrating  his  method  of  teaching  elocution. 
"I  am  not  a  man  to  play  the  part  of  a  lover  with 
grace.  Nature  gave  me  a  rough  frame  that  I  might 
contend  the  better  with  a  rough  fortune.  Neverthe- 
less I  have  a  heart  and  affections  like  other  men;  and 
those  affections  have  centred  themselves  on  you." 
Mary  blanched,  and  looked  at  him  in  terror.  "You 
are  accustomed  to    my  ardent  temper;  but  I  do  not 


"1 

it, 


I  Love  Among  the  Artist 

intend    that   you   shall  sutler  from  bad   habits  of  mine, 

•aide  and  the  long  deferring 
my    access,     through     my    music,    to    my    fellow 
creatures.      No:    I    am   aware  of  my  failings,  and  shall 
t  them.      Vou   know  my  position;  and  BO  I  shall 
make  n<>   1  of   it.      Y<>u  may  think  me  incapable  of 

alerr.  but  I  am  net:   you  will  never  have  to  com- 

plain   that   your   husband  not    love   you."       He 

.   and  '.  it    Mary's  fa- 

She     had    never    had    a    tho;: -lit   of   marrying  Jack. 
Now    that    he    had    asked    her    to   do  he    felt   that 

refusal  would  car  wound  she  dared  not  inflict :   she 

must  sacrifia  his  demand.    To  fill  the  empty 

place   in    jack's   heart    seemed    to    her  a   duty   laid  on 
her.  BUmfl  I   all   her   I  al  endurance 

to  say  j  with  the  thought  that 

she  live   loi.  Meanwhile,  Jack  was  read- 

• 

"I  have      ■  my  last  folly,"  he  said,  in  a  stir- 

ri:         ice,  but  with.  his  habitual  abruptness. 

"Henceforth  I  •    •       >nly  mistress 

I    am     fitt  MtU  She    has    not    many   such 

masters. 

Mary,    yi  g  to  an  linary  emotion,   burst 

into  t 

l4C         .      he   said:   "it   is  all  i  I   did   not  mean 

to  fru  you,      I   have  broken  with  the  world  now; 

and   my   mind   is  t'.  tnd   the   easier    for    it. 

Why  need  you  I 

She  recovered  herself,  trying  to  find  something  to 
say  to  him.      In   her   disquietude   she   began   to   speak 

:"ore   her   agitation   had   subsid  "It   is  not,"  she 

said   with  difficulty,    "that   I   am  ungrateful  or  insen- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  265 

sible.     But  you  do  not  know  how  far  you  stand  beyond 
other " 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said  soothingly.  "I  understand. 
You  are  right:  I  have  no  business  in  the  domestic 
world,  and  must  stick  to  music  and  Mrs.  Simpson  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter.  Come  along;  and  think  no 
more  of  it.  I  will  put  you  into  a  cab  and  send  you 
home." 

She  turned  with  him;  and  they  went  together 
towards  the  Marble  Arch :  he  no  longer  moody,  but 
placid  and  benevolent:  she  disturbed,  silent,  and 
afraid  to  meet  his  gaze.  It  was  growing  late.  One 
of  the  religious  congregations  which  hold  their  sum- 
mer meetings  in  the  park  had  assembled;  and  their 
hymn  could  be  heard,  softened  by  distance.  Jack 
hummed  a  bass  to  the  tune,  and  looked  along  the  line 
of  trees  that  shut  out  the  windows  of  Park  Lane,  and 
led  away  to  the  singular  equestrian  statue  which  then 
stood  at  Hyde  Park  Corner. 

"This  is  a  pretty  place,  after  all,"  he  said.  "There 
is  enough  blue  sky  and  green  sward  here  to  com- 
pensate for  a  good  deal  of  brick  and  mortar.  Down 
there  in  the  hollow  there  is  silver  water  with  white 
swans  on  it.  I  wonder  how  the  swans  keep  them- 
selves white.     The  sheep  can't." 

"Yes,  it  is  an  exquisite  day,"  said  Mary,  trying 
hard  to  interest  herself  in  the  scene,  and  to  speak 
steadily,     "There  will  be  a  fine  sunset." 

"There  is  a  good  view  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
here." 

"Happily,  I  cannot  see  so  far.  But  I  can  imagine 
the  monster  swimming  sooty  in  the  ether." 

Leave  him  in  peace,"  said  Jack.     "He  is  the  only 


1 4 


266  Love  Anion'/  the  Artists 


b 


tatue  in  London:  that  is  why  no  one  lias  the 
courage  to  say  a  word  in  his  defeno  His  horse  is 
like  a  real  h  with  real  harn<  ss.    He  is  not  exposed 

barehead*  the  weather,  hut  wears  a  hat  aa  any 

other   man    in    th°  t    does.      He    is   not    a   stupid 

imitation  of  an  antique  basr<  He  is  characteristic 

atury  that  ma       him;  and  he  is  unique,  as  a 

rt  should  h        He  is  picturesque  to       The — 

M     -  Mary.     Yon  have  no  mop        ise  to 

he  unhappy  than  t  children    tumbling  over    the 

fence  t'  Wnat  are  those  t( 

"Not   '  m  unhappy,"    sh<    i    plied  in    a 

ken  V  "Perhaps    b  I    have   BUCh   reas 

to  be  proud.    I'  me.     I  t  help  it." 

iey  v.  •     the  Marble  Arch;  and  j. 

hurri       a,  thai         might  the  so 

•  lotU  i   the:  'led   a   *       . 

her  t 

UY<  .:  mil  w  ay  more,  I  hop< 

he  said.  ■    band.     She  attempt  ik; 

and  d  I  smile 

falling    meanwhile        He 
watched  the         until  it  ishable 

among   the  hieles   in   <  .    and 

th'  d    the  d    turned    to    the    West, 

hich    was   now  with    the    fire   of 

When  he  readied  the  bridge  beneath  which 

the  Sei  of  Hyde  I '.irk  is  bi  become 

the   I  Water  of  K  I  m  Gardens,   he  stopp 

see   the   sun  set  behind    the  of  Bayswater 

lurch,    and    to    admire    the     elear    depths     of     hazel 

green  in  the  pools  underneath  the  foliage  on  the  left 

ik.      "/  hanker  for  a  wife!*1   he  said,    as  he  stood 


Love  Among  the  Artists  267 

bolt  upright,  with  his  knuckles  resting  lightly  on  the 
parapet,  and  the  ruddy  gold  of  the  sun  full  in  his 
eyes.  "I  grovel  after  money!  What  dog's  appetites 
have  this  worldly  crew  infected  me  with!  No  matter: 
I  am  free:  I  am  myself  again.  Back  to  thy  holy 
garret,  oh  my  soul!"  And  having  stared  the  sunset 
out  of  countenance,  which  is  soon  done  by  a  man  old 
enough  to  have  hackneyed  the  sentimentality  it 
inspires,  he  walked  steadfastly  away,  his  mood 
becoming  still  more  tranquil  as  the  evening  fell  darker. 

On  reaching  Church  Street,  he  called  for  Mrs. 
Simpson;  gave  her  a  number  of  postage  stamps  which 
he  had  just  purchased;  and  ordered  her  to  write  in  his 
name  to  all  his  pupils  postponing  their  lessons  until 
he  should  write  to  them  again.  Being  an  indifferent 
speller  and  a  slovenly  writer,  she  grumbled  that  he 
was  risking  his  income  by  treating  his  pupils  so 
cavalierly.  It  was  his  custom  to  meet  her  remon- 
strances, even  when  he  acted  on  them,  with  oaths  and 
abuse.  This  evening  he  let  her  say  what  she  wished, 
meanwhile  arranging  his  table  to  write  at.  His 
patience  was  so  far  from  appeasing  her  that  she  at 
last  ventured  to  say  that  she  would  not  write  his 
letters  and  turn  good  money  away. 

"You  will  do  as  you  are  told,"  he  said;  "for  the 
devils  also  believe  and  tremble."  And  with  that 
explanation,  he  bade  her  make  him  some  coffee,  and 
put  her  out  of  the  room. 

Whilst  Mary  was  being  driven  home  from  the  park, 
she  was  for  some  time  afraid  that  she  must  succumb 
publicly  to  a  fit  of  hysterics.  But  after  a  few  painful 
minutes,  her  throat  relaxed;  a  feeling  of  oppression 
at  her  chest  ceased;  and  when  the  cab  stopped  at  Mr, 


-  ■ 


►8  Love  Among  the  Artists 


.-1 


Phipson's   h<  she    was   able   to  offer   the  fare  com- 

posedly to  the  driver,  who  refused   it,  Baying  that  the 
atleman  had  paid   it    in  advance.     She  then  went 
upstairs  to  1.  :n  room  to  weep.      When  she  arriv 

there,  howew  and  that  she  had  no  more  tears 

•      died.         be  went   to   the   mirror,  -^nd   stood  motion- 
>re  it.      It   showed  her  a  face   exprcssir,  ep 

gri<        Sh  pityingly  at  it;  and  it  look  back  at 

her  with   into  I   doloi        This  lasted  for  more  than 

a    minute,    during    which    she    c  I    such     a    pro- 

fundity her   face  that  she  had  no  atten- 

tion to  '  >r  the  lightening  <>f  her  heart  which  w. 

proceeding   ra]  meanwhil         Then   her   nostrils 

gave    a    sudden    twitch;   she    burst   out    laughing;    and 

the  self-reproach  which  :  OUtra  :i  senti- 

ment did  not  prevent  her  from   imm-  laughing 

all  the  mor<-. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  i         g  a  jugof  cold  waf 

and    emptying   it    with  a  splash    in'  in,  "it  is  not 

more     ridiculous    to   laugh    at    nothing    than    to    look 

mi  ;t  it.'  washed  away  the  tract 

her  tears  ha  ad  went  down  to  dinner  as  ^aily  as 

usual. 

A  fortnight  elapsed,  during  which  she  heard  nothing 
of    Jack,    and   sonic  'it    that   she   had   done 

when  she  had  cried  at  his  declaration,  than 
when  she  had  laughed  at  her  own  emotion.  Then,  one 
evening,  Mr.  Phipson  announced  that  the  Antient 
Orpheus  Society  were  about  to  make  an  important 
acquisition — "one.'  id  he,  looking  at  Mary,  "that 
will  specially  interest  you." 

"Something  by  old  Jack?"  said  Charlie,  who  was 
dining  there  that  day. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  269 

"A  masterpiece  by  him,  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Phipson. 
"He  has  written  to  say  that  he  has  composed  music  to 
the  'Prometheus  Unbound'  of  Shelley:  four  scenes 
with  chorus ;  a  dialogue  of  Prometheus  with  the  earth ; 
an  antiphony  of  the  earth  and  moon;  an  overture; 
and  a  race  of  the  hours. ' ' 

"Shelley!"  exclaimed  Mary  incredulously. 

"I  should  have  thought  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  the 
proper  poet  for  Jack,"  said  Charlie. 

"It  is  a  magnificent  subject,"  continued  Mr.  Phip- 
son; "and  if  he  has  done  justice  to  it,  the  work  will  be 
the  crowning  musical  achievement  of  this  century.  I 
have  no  doubt  whatever  that  he  has  succeeded ;  for  he 
says  himself  that  his  music  is  the  complement  of  the 
poetry,  and  fully  worthy  of  it.  He  would  never 
venture  so  say  so  if  he  were  not  conscious  of  having 
done  something  almost  stupendous." 

"Modesty  never  was  one  of  his  failings,"  remarked 
Charlie. 

"I  feel  convinced  that  the  music  will  be — will  be — " 
said  Mr.  Phipson,  waving  his  hand,  and  seeking  an 
expressive  word,  "will  be  something  apocalyptic,  if  I 
may  use  the  term.  We  have  agreed  to  offer  him  five 
hundred  pounds  for  the  copyright,  with  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  performance  in  the  British  Isles;  and  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  he  will  accept  this  offer. 
Considering  that  the  music  will  doubtless  be  very 
difficult,  and  will  involve  the  expense  of  a  chorus  and 
an  enlarged  band,  with  several  rehearsals,  it  is  a  fairly 
liberal  offer.  Maclagan  objected,  of  course;  and 
some  of  the  others  suggested  three  hundred  and  fifty; 
but  I  insisted  on  five  hundred.  We  could  not 
decently  offer  less.     Besides,  the  Modern  Orpheus  will 


:jo  Love  Among  the  Artists 

try   to   snatch    the    work    from    us.  The  rture     is 

actually  in  the  hand  the  C  Qd  the  rest  will 

complete  in  a  month  at  latest." 

"<  nly   you   must   have    more  m  than    you 

know  what  to  do  with,  if  y<-u  to  pay  f. ■ 

hundred  pounds  for  a  thing  yOU  have  never  seen,"  said 
Mrs.  Phipson. 
"We    hall  pay  it  without  the  least  mistrust,"  said 

Mr.    !  pompousl]         "Jack    is  mpOS 

■  con  nderfu]  gift, 

as  .  . r  1  is  '. 

"  But   1  ■  '   ha\  i  the  wh< 

work  in  a  f  01  '  '    rv. 

"(  not.      What    makes   you   l  I    a    f-  »rt- 

nighl 

"Nothing,'           1  Ma  .1  heard    that   he- 
had  given  no  l-  ht  " 
"He  ha  r  a  loi      time, 
pend  npon  it.                    re  are  inst  ■         of 
linary    i                    in    mt  tl    composition.     The 
Messiah  was  completed  by  II.  in  twenty-on< 

and  1  rt 

Mr.  Ph  d  to  relal  • 

and  whole    icl  I  night.     H< 

a  diligent  I  md  al  r  analytic 

pr  fully,  so   that   he   had   a  fund  of  su- 

more  or  le^s   authentic,  to  v  Mary,  who 

had   heard   most  of   them  1  i  Iced   attentive  and 

let  her  thoughts  wander. 

S  >me  later,    however,    when    Mary   asked   for 

further  news  of     'Prometheus  Unbound,"   she  found 
his  tone  changed.  ng  pressed  h<         nitted  that 

he  had  induced  the  Antient  Orpheus  Society  to  make 


Love  Among  the  Artists  271 

a  doubtful  bargain.  The  overture  and  two  of  the 
scenes  had  been  completed  and  delivered  to  the 
society  by  Jack;  and  no  one,  said  Mr.  Phipson,  had 
been  able  to  contradict  Maclagan's  verdict  that  "the 
music,  most  fortunately,  was  inexecutable. "  A  letter 
had  been  carefully  drawn  up  to  inform  Jack  as  gently 
as  possible  of  the  fate  of  his  work.  "So  prodigious," 
it  said,  "were  the  technical  difficulties  of  the  work; 
so  large  and  expensive  the  forces  required  to  present 
it  adequately;  and  so  doubtful  the  prospect  of  its 
acceptance  by  a  miscellaneous  audience  in  the  existing 
condition  of  public  taste,  that  the  Committee  were 
obliged  to  confess,  with  deep  regret,  that  they  dared 
not  make  arrangements  for  its  early  production.  If 
Mr.  Jack  had  by  him  any  more  practicable  composition, 
however  short  it  might  fall  of  the  'Prometheus'  in 
point  of  vastness  of  design,  they  would  be  willing  to 
permit  of  its  being  substituted  without  prejudice  to 
those  conditions  in  their  agreement  which  had  been 
inserted  in  the  interest  of  the  composer." 

To  this  Jack  had  replied  that  they  should  have 
"Prometheus"  or  nothing;  that  there  was  not  a  note 
in  the  score  which  was  not  practicable  with  a  reason- 
able degree  of  trouble;  that  he  could  find  no  prec- 
edents on  which  to  base  the  slightest  regard  for  the 
sagacity  of  the  Society ;  that  he  cared  not  one  demi- 
semi-quaver  whether  they  held  to  their  bargain  or 
not,  as  he  would  find  no  difficulty  in  disposing  of  his 
work;  and  that  he  insisted  on  their  either  returning 
the  score  at  once,  or  paying  the  first  installment  of  five 
hundred  pounds  for  it,  as  agreed  upon.  He  added  in 
a  postscript  that  if  they  accepted  the  work,  he  should 
require  strict    fulfilment  of   the    clause    binding    the 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

to  one  public    i  •  ■      tnance  of   it  in  London. 
The  Society,  which  was  old  enough  to  have  shelved 

certain    works   pure'.  I  B   ethoven   for  similar 

reasons   to   tho  tO    Jack,    hesitat'  quarrelled 

internally;   and  at    last    resolved  to  hold    a    private 

al   of  the   overture  riding.       Manlius 

made        aest  eff  aprehend  and    like    this 

>rk,  which  was  to  oc4  tn  hour 

tn   p  nance,   ar.  J,   in   fact,   a  symphony.      lie 

led;  he   found    the   task 

luctin  '  unusually  di  The 

p]  and  willing,   did  in    the 

estin  tition  hrokc 

down  twi  ilt  lost  temp 

and   cursed    mutinously    within  Manlii: 

who  was  himself  o  ad  angry.     When  it  was 

ov<  murmur  r        from  the  stalls 

Wl           the   Com  mitt  it   in   ju                       aid   a  few  of 

the  older  mi  t   a  second   trial. 

T:  md  the «  '  ire  was  repeated, 
this  time  without 

"Certainly,"  Mr.         Ipson,  his 

sensations   to   M  I   traits.      But 

these   were   only   glim  I    in    the    midst    of 

chaos,     I  had  I  in  to  Mac)  a  knowledg- 

ing  that   the   most   :"  :it   I  could  of  it 

was  that  it  im;  me  as  might  the  a'  lions  of 

a  demented        at.     II  frantic  al   >ut  it,  and 

fairly  talked   v.  vn   with  i  llse  relations 

and  incorrect  pr<  bar  of  the  score. 

Old  Brailsford,  who  is  one  of  the  old  committee, 
turned  up  for  the  first  time  these  four  years  expressly 
to  support  Jack's  interests.      He  said  it  was  the  most 


Love  Among  the  Artists  273 

infernal  conglomeration  of  sounds  he  had  ever  listened 
to ;  and  I  must  say  many  of  us  privately  agreed  with 
him." 

This  conversation  took  place  at  the  dinner  table,  and 
was  prolonged  by  Mrs.  Phipson,  who  taunted  her 
husband  with  his  disregard  of  her  warning  not  to  pay 
five  hundred  pounds  for  what  she  termed  a  pig  in  a 
poke.  She  was  a  talkative  woman,  shallow,  jolly,  and 
unscrupulous,  with  a  shrewd  and  selfish  side  to  her 
character  which  indulgent  people  never  saw.  Mary 
saw  it  clearly ;  and  as,  to  her  taste,  Mrs.  Phipson  was 
vulgar,  she  was  not  very  fond  of  her,  and  often  felt 
indignant  at  her  ridicule  of  her  husband's  boastful  but 
sincere  love  of  music.  On  this  occasion,  seeing  that 
Mr.  Phipson  was  getting  sulky,  and  that  his  wife  was 
perversely  minded  to  make  him  worse,  she  left  the 
table  quietly  without  waiting  for  her  hostess,  and  went 
upstairs  alone  to  the  drawing-room.  There,  to  her 
surprise,  she  found  a  strange  man,  lounging  on  a  sofa 
with  an  album  in  his  hands. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mary,  retreating. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  man,  rising  in  disorder.  "I 
hope  I'm  not  in  the  way.     Miss  Sutherland,  perhaps. ' 

"Yes,"  said  Mary  coldly;  for  she  could  not  see  him 
distinctly,  and  his  manner  of  addressing  her,  though  a 
little  confused,  struck  her  as  being  too  familiar. 

"Very  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Miss 
Sutherland.  Nanny  wrote  me  word  that  you  were 
staying  here.  I  recognize  you  by  your  photograph 
too.  I  hope  I  don't  disturb  you."  He  added  this 
doubtfully,  her  attitude  being  still  anything  but 
reassuring. 

"Not  at  all,"   said  Mary,  taking  the  nearest  seat, 


274  Love  Among   the  Artists 

which  happened  to  ce  of  furniture  shaped  like 

the  letter  S,   with  a  seat  in  each  loop,  bo  that  the 

occupants,  placed  opposite  one  could  converse 

at    theit  rose    the   rail.  ic    then    settled    her 

gla        deliberately  upon  her  no        ad  looked  at  him 

with  a  certain  hardihood  of  manner  which  came  to  her 

whenever   she    was  1   with    nervousness,  and  was 

termim  >t    to   give    way    to    it.       He    was    a    tall, 

jovial  looking  man,  not  yet  quite  middle-aged,  stout, 
or  florid,  but,  as  she  judged,  within  fiv<  ra  at  most 
of  being  all  t:. n         He  had  sandy  fa         and  a  red 

beard     cleft     into     two     long     whi  t    the    shape 

formerly  known  1    fashion  "    His  expres- 

sion  w.         od-natui         and,    at    this  moment,    con- 
ciliatory, as  though  he   wished   to  rm  any  further 
stiHY.'           n   her   part      But   sh<           Eight   she  saw  also 
idmiration  in   hi                  and   she  continued  to 
at   him   inf.           \\      He    1        ■  istfully   at    the 

out  sat  down  on  tl.         a,  leaning 
rward  with  Ids  elb        on  his  kne< 
'"This  is  a  very  convenient  neighboi         I,  isn't  it?" 

he 

"Very."' 

14 Yes.      T    am   sure   you   must   find    it  so.  u  are 

within  easy  distance  of  both  the  parks,  and  all  the 
theatres.  Kensington  is  too  far  out  of  the  way  for  my 
fancy.      How    long   d  Lt   take   to  go   from   here    to 

Covent  Garden    Market  now,  for  instance-  ' 

"I  am  sorry  I  cannot  tell  you,"  said  Mary  calmly, 
looking  at  him  with  unflinching  eyes:  "I  never  go 
there." 

"Indeed!  I  wonder  at  that.  Yon  can  get 
tremendous     bargains     in      flowers,      I      believe,     if 


Love  Among  the  Artists  275 

you  go  there  early  in  the  morning.  Do  you  like 
flowers?" 

"  I  do  not  share  the  fashionable  mania  for  cut  flowers. 
I  like  gardening." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Miss  Sutherland.  I  often 
think,  when  I  see  every  little  vase  or  niknak  in  a  room 
stuffed  with  tulips  and  lilies  and  things,  what  a  want 
of  real  taste  it  shews.  I  was  looking  at  that  beautiful 
painting  over  the  music  stand  just  before  you  came 
in.     May  I  ask  is  it  one  of  yours?" 

"Yes.  If  you  look  closely  at  it  you  will  see  my  name 
written  in  large  vermilion  letters  in  the  left  hand 
corner." 

**I  saw  it.  That's  how  I  knew  it  to  be  yours.  It's 
a  capital  picture :  I  often  regret  that  I  never  learned 
to  paint,  though  I  know  I  should  never  have  done  it 
half  as  well  as  you.  It's  a  very  nice  occupation  for 
a  lady.     It  is  mere  child's  play  to  you,  I  suppose." 

44 1  have  given  it  up  because  I  find  it  too  difficult." 

"But  nobody  could  do  it  better  than  you.  How- 
ever, it  runs  away  with  your  time,  no  doubt.  Still, 
if  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  give  it  up  altogether." 

4 'You  are  fond  of  pictures,  I  presume." 

44  Yes.  I  have  a  great  taste  for  them.  I  go  to  the 
National  Gallery  whenever  I  come  to  London,  to  have 
a  look  at  Landseer's  pictures.  I  sometimes  see  young 
ladies  copying  the  pictures  there.  Did  you  ever  copy 
one  of  Landoeer's?" 

44  No.  Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  you,  there  are 
some  pictures  there  which  I  prefer  to  Landseer's. ' 

44  You  understand  the  old  masters,  you  see.  I  don't, 
unfortunately.  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  talk  to  you 
about  them;  but  if  I  tried  it  on,  you  would  find  out 


j;6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

in  no  time  that  I  know  nothing  about  it.  Put  me  into 
a  gallery,  and  I  can  tell  you  what  pictures  I  like: 
that's  about  as  far  as  I  can  go." 

"I  wish  I  could  go  as  far." 

"I  am  afraid  you  arc  chaffing  me,  Miss  Sutherland." 

Ma  :id  not  condescend  to  reply.  The  Strange 
man,  now  somewhat  discomfited,  rose  and  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  fireplace,  as  if  to  warm  himself  at  the 
Japanese  umbrella  thai  1   from  it. 

"  i  leautiful  v  "  after  -e. 

beautiful     in<".  "    she     replied,     gravely. 

Then,  to  prevent  he  from  laughing  at  him,  "Have 

:  been  long  in  Lond<  >n?" 

"Arrived  ye  ."he  said,  brightening. 

"I  came  straight  from  New  York  via  Liverpool  I'm 
always  I  I  Live  yon  ever  been  to  the  State 

l'Y<  D  i    there  and    see    what   real    life    is. 

We're    all  re.     I    only  left    England    last 

March;     and    I  :     branches    <»f  our   com- 

pany since  that,  besides  o1        ling  judgment  against 
ondrelfl    who    infringed    our    patent       (juick 
work  that." 

C.J 

"I  lid  think  SO.      It  would  have  taken  two  years 

to  do  here.      More:   live  years  perhaps.     The  Ameri- 

n't  resist  a  new  thing  as  we  do.     I>ut  no  matter. 

Unless  they  look  alive  here,  they  will  be  driven  out 

the   market    by  for  manufacturers  using    our 

cheap  power. " 

"Your  cheap  power!     What  is  that?" 
"I   thought  you  knew.     Why,   the   Conolly  electro- 
motor, which  will  drive  any  machinery  at  half — aye, 


Love  Among  the  Artists  277 

at  a  quarter  the  cost  of  steam.  You  have  heard  of  it, 
of  course." 

"I  think  so.  I  have  met  Mr.  Conolly.  He  does  not 
seem  like  a  man  who  could  do  anything  badly." 

"Badly!  I  should  think  not.  He's  an  amazing- 
man.  They  talk  of  Seth  Jones's  motor;  and  Van 
Print  claims  to  be  the  original  inventor  of  Conolly's 
commutator.  But  they  are  a  couple  of  thieves. 
I  can  shew  you  the  report  of  Conolly  versus  the 
Pacific " 

"Johnny!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Phipson,  entering.  "I 
thought  it  was  your  voice." 

"How  d'ye  do,  Nan?"  said  he.  "How  are  the 
bairns?" 

"Oh,  we're  all  first  rate.  Have  you  been  here 
long?" 

"It  seems  only  half  a  minute,  Miss  Sutherland  has 
been  entertaining  me  so  pleasantly."  And  he  winked 
and  frowned  at  Mrs.  Phipson,  to  intimate  that  he 
desired  to  be  introduced. 

"Then  you  know  each  other  already,"  she  said. 
"This  is  my  brother,  Mr.  Hoskyn.  I  hope  you  have 
not  been  bothering  Mary  with  your  electro  business." 

"Mr.  Hoskyn  was  giving  me  a  most  interesting 
account  of  it  when  you  came  in,"  said  Mary. 

"You  can  finish  it  some  other  time,"  said  Mrs. 
Phipson.  "Inflict  it  on  the  next  person  who  has  the 
misfortune  to  get  shut  into  a  railway  carriage  with 
you.     When  did  you  come  back?" 

Mr.  Hoskyn  glanced  apprehensively  at  Mary,  and 
did  not  seem  to  like  his  sister's  remark,  though  he 
laughed  good-humoredly  at  it.  The  conversation  then 
turned  upon  his  recent  movements ;  the  length  of  time 


27  Love  Anions  the  Artists 

he  iected    to   remain     in     London;     and    so    forth. 

Mary  gathered  that  lie  had  invested  money  in  the 
Conolly  Electro- Motor  Company,  and  that  he  occupi 

himself  in   trav-  lling"  to  countries   where   the  electro- 
motor wa  yet    unknown;  establishing   compani 
for  its  exploitation  ;   and  making  them  pay  for  the  right 

to  use  it.  Mrs.  PhipSOn  was  evidently  tired  of  the 
subject,    and    ma  I    attempts    to    prevent     his 

dwelling  on  it;  but,  in  spite  of  her,  fa         isted  a  good 

deal    of    the    s:  of   Cor.  I    invention,     and 

and  predicted  ruin  for  ce   '  her  companies 

which  had  been  Bet  on  foot  t  rival  p-         :s. 

II<  tually  intern  theappearan 

of  the  younger  children,  who  were  excited  by  the 
arrival  of  Uncle  Johnnie;  and,  Mary  thought,  looked 
forward    to    being    the     ri>  r    his     visit.       Mr. 

II  :.'s  att  '  i   them,    fa  d   after 

the   first   few    minutes;    and    Mrs.    Phipson,    who    was 

always  in  ut  of  her  children's  presence,  presently 

bade  tl.  ■   I  tell  th-  ther  that  Uncle  Johnnie 

had  c  They   v.  she   i  m   no  account   to 

return  to  the   drawing -room.      Their   faces  lengthened 

at  this  dismissal;  but  they  did  not  venture  to  dis- 
regard  it  Then  Mr.  Phipson  came;  and  his  brother- 
in-law  said  much  to  him  of  what  he  had  said  before. 
Mary  took  no  part  in  the  conversation;  but  she 
occupied  a  cor.  able   share  of   Mr.   Hoskyn's  atten- 

n.  Whenever  he  pronounced  an  opinion,  or  cracked 
he  glanced  at  her  to  see  whether  she  appr 
of  it,  and  always  found  her  in  the  same  attitude,  self- 
possessed,  with  her  upper  lip  lifted  a  little  from  her 
teeth  by  the  poise  of  her  head,  which  she  held  well 
up  in  order  to  maintain  her  glasses  in  their  position  ; 


Love  Among  the  Artists  279 

and  by  a  slight  contraction  of  her  brows  to  shade  her 
eyes  from  the  superfluous  rays. 

"I  need  hardly  ask  whether  Miss  Sutherland  sings," 
he  said,  when  he  had  repeated  all  his  news  to  Mr. 
Phipson. 

"Very  seldom,"  replied  his  sister.  Now  Mary  had 
a  powerful  and  rather  strident  contralto  voice,  which 
enabled  her  to  sing  dramatic  music  with  startling 
expression  and  energy.  Mrs.  Phipson,  who  did  not 
like  these  qualities,  said  "Very  seldom,"  in  order  to 
deter  her  brother  from  pressing  his  suggestion.  But 
Mr.  Phipson,  who  relished  Mary's  performances,  and 
was  also  fond  of  playing  accompaniments,  immediately 
went  to  the  piano,  and  opened  it. 

"I  would  give  anything  to  hear  you,"  said  Hoskyn, 
"if  you  will  condescend  to  sing  for  such  an  ignorant 
audience  as  me." 

"I  had  much  rather  not,"  said  Mary,  shewing  signs 
of  perturbation  for  the  first  time.  "I  sing  nothing 
that  would  amuse  you. ' ' 

"Of  course  not,"  said  he.  "I  know  you  don't  sing 
ballads  and  such  trash.  Something  Italian,  I  should 
like  to  hear." 

"Come,"  said  Mr.  Phipson.  "Give  us  'Che  faro 
senza  Euridice, '  ' '     And  he  began  to  play  it. 

Mary,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  resigned  herself, 
and  went  to  the  instrument.  Mrs.  Phipson  sighed. 
Hoskyn  sat  down  on  the  ottoman ;  leaned  attentively 
forward ;  and  smiled  continuously  until  the  song  was 
over,  when  he  cried  with  enthusiasm : 

"Bravo!  Splendid,  splendid!  You  are  quite  equal 
to  any  professional  singer  I  ever  heard,  Miss  Suther- 
land.    There  is  nothing  like  real  Italian  music  after 


280  Love  Among  the  Artists 

all.     Thank  you  very  much:  I  cannot  remember  when 
I  enjoyed  anything  half  so  well" 

" It  18  not   Italian   music,"  said   Mary,  resuming  her 
former  attitude  in  the  causeuse.     "It  is  German  music 

With  Italian  words." 

"It  might  as  well  be  Chinese  music  fur  all  he  knows 
about  it."  said  Mrs.  Phipsot)  spitefully. 

"I  know  that  I  enjoyed  it  thoroughly,  at  any  rate," 

skym      "I    have    taken    such    a    fancy    to    that 
ture   on   the   wall   that   I   should   like  to  see  some  of 
your  sketches,  if  you  will   favor  me        :' 

Mary    felt    bound    t<  >     be  to    Mrs.     Phipson's 

brother:   else   she   might   have   1  with  Mr. 

Hoskyn.      "My  skel      I        re  in   th  :,"  she  I 

pointing   to   a  >.      "But    they  are    not  intended 

for  show  pur;         >;   and  if  you  have  n<  I  curiosity  to 

See    them,    pray   do   not   be   at    the   trouble  of  turning 
them  1  do  not  paint  for  the  sake  of  displaying 

an  extra  ace 

"I  quite  understand  that     It  is  as  natural  to  you  to 
all  these  tl  >  me  to  walk  or  sleep.     You 

can    hardly    think    how    much     pie  •        or    a 

sketch  \  .   you   see,  they  :y- 

day  things  with  you,  win    ■       I  could  no  more  paint 

or  sing-  in    Italian   than    little  Nettie  U]       l    s.  >,  if 

you'll   allow  me,    I'll   take   ..   peep.     If  I   bring  them 
over   here,  you   can  v   them   to  me  better."      And, 

on   this  pretext,  he  got   into  the  can  with  her  at 

last. 

"Pool!"  commented  Mrs.  Phipson  through  her  teeth 
to  Mr.    Phipson,   who  and  strummed  on  the 

piano.      Hoskyn  m<  hile  examined  the  sketches  one 

by  one;  demanded  a  particular  account  of  each;  and, 


Love  Among  the  Artists  281 

when  they  represented  places  at  which  he  had  been, 
related  such  circumstances  of  his  visit  as   he   could 
recollect,  usually  including  the  date,  the  hotel  charges, 
and    particulars    of    his    fellow    travellers;     as,     for 
instance,   that  there  were  two    Italian  ladies  staying 
there;  or  that  a  lot  of  Russians  took  the  whole  of  the 
first  floor,  and  were  really  very  polite    people  when 
you  came  to  know  them.     Mary  answered  his  ques- 
tions patiently,  and  occasionally,  when  he  appealed  to 
her  for  confirmation  of  his  opinions,  gave  him  a  cool 
nod,   after  each  of  which  he  grew  more  pleased  and 
talkative.      He  praised  her  drawings    extravagantly; 
and  she,  seeing  that  the  worst  satisfied  him  as  well  as 
the  best,   made  no    further  attempt  to  deprecate  his 
admiration,  listening  to  it  with  self-possessed  indiffer- 
ence.     Mrs.    Phipson  yawned  conspicuously    all    the 
time.     Failing  to  move  him  by  this  means,  she  at  last 
asked  him  whether  he  would  take  supper  with  them, 
or  return  at  once  to  wherever  he  was  staying.     He 
replied  that  he  was  staying  round  the  corner  at  the 
Langham  Hotel,  and  that  he  would  wait  for  supper, 
to  which  Mrs.   Phipson  assented    with  a   bad  grace. 
Just  then  Mary,  hearing  screams  from  the    nursery 
pretended  that  she  wished  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
and  left  the  room.     She  did  not  return ;  and  Hoskyn, 
on  going  down  to  supper,  was  informed,  to  his  heavy 
disappointment,  that  she  never  partook  of  that  meal. 

"So  you  might  have  saved  yourself  the  trouble  of 
staying,  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Phipson.  "Will  you 
have  a  wing  or  a  bit  of  the  breast?" 

"Anything,  please.  On  my  soul,  Phipson,  I  think 
she  is  the  nicest  girl  I  ever  met.  She  is  really  very 
handsome." 


Love  Among  the  Artists 


.-i 


"Handsome!"    cried     Mrs.     PhipSOD,      indignantly. 

••Don't  be  a  fool,  Johnny." 

"Why?      Don't  you  think   she  is>" 

"She  isn't  even  plain:   she  is  downright  ugly." 

"()h    come,    Nanny!     That   is  a  little  too    much. 

What  fault  can  you  find  with  her  face?" 

"What    fault    is   there    that    I    cannot   find'     To  say 

nothing   of   her    features,  which    even    you  can  hardly 

defend,  look    at   her   coarse    Mack    hair   and   thick  eye- 

\vs.  id  then  she  wears  spectacles." 

"No.     Not  i  teles,        iily  n<         .  Nanny.    They 

are  quite  the  fashion  now." 

"Well,  whatever  y<>u  choose  to  call  them.    If  you  con- 
r  a  pince-nei    ornamental,  your  taste   is  peculiar." 

"I  agree  with  you,  John, '      aid  Mr.    Phipson.     "I 

admire  Mary  greatly." 

'*If  she  were  twi<  handsome,"  interposed  Mrs. 

Phipson,  as   Hoskyn's  ey      brightened  triumphantly, 

"it    would    be     none     the     better     for    you.       She     is 

engaged. " 

Hoskyn  looked  at  her  in  dismay.  Mr.  Phipson 
Seemed  surprised. 

"Engaged  t«>  Adrian  Herbert,  the  artist,"  continued 
Mrs.  Phipson,  "who  can  talk  to  her  about  high  art 
until  she  fancies  him  the  greatest  genius  in  England: 
not  like  you,  who  think  yourself  very  clever  when  you 
have  spent  an  hour  in  shewing  her  that  you  know 
nothing  about  it.  " 

"My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Phipson:  "that 
business  with  Herbert  is  all  broken  off.  You  should 
be  a  little  careful.  He  is  going  to  be  married  to 
Szczymplica. " 

"You  may  believe  as  much  of  that  as  you  please," 


Love  Among  the  Artists  283 

said  Mrs.  Phipson.  "Even  supposing  that  she  really 
is  done  with  Herbert,  there  is  Jack.  A  nice  chance 
you  have  Johnny,  with  the  greatest  lion  in  London 
for  a  rival." 

"Annie,"  said  Mr.  Phipson:  "you  are  talking  reck- 
lessly. There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  is 
anything  between  Mary  and  Jack.  Jack  is  not — in 
that  sense,  at  least — a  ladies'  man." 

"As  to  that,"  said  Hoskyn,  "I  will  take  my  chance 
beside  any  artist  that  ever  walked  on  two  legs.  They 
can  talk  to  her  about  things  that  I  may  not  be  exactly 
au  fait  at;  but,  for  the  matter  of  that,  if  /  chose  to 
talk  shop,  I  could  tell  her  a  few  things  that  she  would 
be  a  long  time  finding  out  from  them.  No,  Nanny: 
the  question  is,  Is  she  engaged?  If  she  is,  then  I'm 
off;  and  there's  an  end  of  the  business.  If  not,  I 
guess  I'll  try  and  see  some  more  of  her,  in  spite  of  all 
the  painters  and  musicians  in  creation.  So,  which 
is  it?" 

"She  is  quite  free,"  said  Mr.  Phipson.  "She  was 
engaged  to  Herbert;  but  it  was  an  old  arrangement, 
made  when  they  were  children,  I  believe;  and  at  all 
events  it  was  given  up  some  time  ago.  I  think  there 
will  be  a  little  money  too,  John.  And  I  fancy  from 
her  manner  that  she  was  struck  with  you."  Mr. 
Phipson  winked  at  his  wife,  and  laughed. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Hoskyn;  "but  I 
am  out-and-out  struck  with  her.  As  to  money,  that 
needn't  stand  in  the  way,  though  I  shan't  object  to 
take  whatever  is  going." 

"You  are  so  particularly  well  suited  to  a  girl  who 
cares  for  nothing  but  fine  art  crazes  of  which  you 
don't   even   know   the   names,"    said    Mrs.     Phipson 


'  \  Love  Among  the  Artists 

urly,  "that  she  will  jump  at  your  offer,  no  doubt. 
It  is  no  wonder  for  her  to  be  shortsighted,  she  reads 
so    much.        And    she    knows    half    the    Languaj  of 

Europe. " 

"I    should    think    so,"  said    II  n.      "You    can  see 

intellect  in  her  That's  the  sort  of  woman  I  like. 

None  of  your  empty  headed  wax  dolls.     I'm  not  sur- 
prised that  you  don't  approve  of  her,  Nanny.    You  are 

shar;  ;ii ;    but   you     never    knew    anything,    and 

never  will.  " 

"I  don't  pretend  to  be  clever.  And  I  don't  disap- 
prove of  her;  but  I  disap]  .on,  at  your  age, 
thinking  of                      'is  in  every  way  unfit  for  you." 

"We  shall  -  at.      I  .mi  quite  content  to 

take  my  chance,  is.     She  can't  live  on  high  art; 

and    I    expect  she  is    sensibl<     i  in    everyday 

matters.     1  I  shall  not  interfere  with  her.     The 

more  aintfl    and    BingS,  the    better  pleased  I  shall 

be." 

"Hear,     hear,"    said     Mr.     IT.  n.       "Let     us     » 

The  in  will   be   over  in 

three    wee',-;    and   ol  u    Would    prefer   I 

married  b  then. "' 

" Chaff  away,"  rising.     "I  must  be  off 

now.     You  may  l  pretty  soon  again; 

and  if  you  don't  hear  \  ring  next  season 

how  Johnny   H         n  managed   to  get  such   a  clever 
wife — why,    I   shall   be   worse   disappointed   than    you. 
id  night " 


CHAPTER   XIV 

During  the  remaining  weeks  of  the  season,  Mary 
witnessed  a  series  of  entertainments  of  a  kind  quite 
new  to  her.  Since  her  childhood  she  had  never  visited 
the  Crystal  Palace  except  for  the  Saturday  afternoon 
classical  concerts.  Now  she  spent  a  whole  day  there 
with  Mr.  Hoskyn,  his  sister,  and  the  children,  and 
waited  for  the  display  of  fireworks.  She  saw  acrobats, 
conjurors,  Christy  Minstrels,  panoramas,  and  shows  of 
cats,  goats,  and  dairy  implements;  and  she  felt  half 
ashamed  of  herself  for  enjoying  them.  She  went  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  to  a  circus,  to  a  music  hall, 
and  to  athletic  sports  at  Lillie  Bridge.  After  the 
athletic  sports,  she  went  up  the  river  in  a  cheap  excur- 
sion steamer  to  Hampton  Court,  where  she  hardly 
looked  at  the  pictures,  and  occupied  herself  solely 
with  the  other  objects  of  interest,  which  she  had 
neglected  on  previous  visits.  Finally  she  went  to 
Madame  Tussaud's. 

Hoskyn  had  proposed  all  these  amusements  on 
behalf  of  the  children ;  and  it  was  supposed  that  Mary 
and  Mrs.  Phipson,  on  going  to  them,  were  good- 
naturedly  co-operating  with  Uncle  Johnny  to  make  the 
little  Phipsons  happy.  In  the  character  of  Uncle 
Johnny,  Hoskyn  frequented  the  house  in  Cavendish 
Square  at  all  hours,  and  was  soon  on  familiar  terms 
with  Mary.  He  was  good  humored,  and  apparently 
quite  satisfied  with  himself.     In  arranging  excursions, 

285 


Love  Among  the  Artists 


» 


procuring  and  paying  for  vehicles,   spying  oat    and 
pushing  his  way  t<  ntally  vacant  in  the 

midst  of  packed  after  the  children, 

and  getting  as  much  value  as  possible   for  his  mon< 

occasion,    he     was     never    embarr  I     or 

inefficient.      He  was  very  inquisitive,  and  took  every 

rtunity  of  entering  into  conversation  with  railway 

ficials,  Bteamb      t  -ins,  cabmen,    and   policemen, 

1     learning     from     them     all     about     their     various 

occupations.      When    this    habit  of   his  d   him   to 

neglect  M  iry  for  a  while,  he  tered  her  with 

Iways  told    her   what  he   had   learnt 
without  any  doubt   that   it  would   interest  her.      And  it 

did  int'  her  more  than  si        ould   have  believe 

forehand,    although     sometimes    its     inter1  Bl 

from  the  n'a  informant 

he  b<  Ltracl  '  can 

pumpinj  »f  any  duly  authorized 

and    pu  at      In   his  company    Mary 

it    her  •    with 

which  Hei  ite  tasi  licitude 

aspired  her, 
nor  the  circumspection  which  sh  I  found  ne  iry 
in  order  to  avoid  i  icting  temper  of 

Ja>  k.      In    their   different    \  I    these    men    had 

humbled  h<        Hoskyn  admired  fa  >n,  and  hel 

her  acquirements  in  awe,  without  '  himself  in  the 

least   humbled,  although   hi  "ted  her  without  stint. 

gran  to   feel,  t  k>,  that  she,  by  her  apprenticeship 
to  the   two  artists,  had   e  1   the  right  to  claim  rank 

as   an   adept   in   modern   culttJ  efore   such  men   as 

Hoskyn.      When   they   went  to  the   Academy,  he   w 
quite  delighted  to  find  that  she  despised  all  the  pictures 


Love  Among  the  Artists  287 

he  preferred.  In  about  an  hour,  however,  both  had 
had  enough  of  picture  seeing  and  they  finished  the  day 
by  the  trip  to  Hampton  Court. 

When  the  season  was  over,  it  was  arranged  that  Mr. 
Phipson  should  take  his  family  to  Trouville  for  the 
month  of  August.  Hoskyn,  who  was  to  accompany 
them,  never  doubted  that  Mary  would  be  one  of  the 
party  until  she  announced  the  date  of  her  departure 
for  Sir  John  Porter's  country  seat  in  Devonshire.  She 
had  accepted  Lady  Geraldine's  invitation  a  month 
before.  Hoskyn  listened  in  dismay,  and  instead  of 
proposing  some  excursion  to  pass  away  the  time, 
moped  about  the  house  during  the  remainder  of  the 
afternoon.  Shortly  after  luncheon  he  was  alone  in 
the  drawing-room,  staring  disconsolately  out  of  win- 
dow, when  Mary  entered.  She  sat  down  without 
ceremony,  and  opened  a  book. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  presently.  "This  is  a  regular 
sell  about  Trouville. ' ' 

How  so?     Has  anything  happened?" 
I  mean  your  not  coming." 

But  nobody  ever  supposed  that  I  was  coming.     It 
was  arranged  long  ago  that  I  should  go  to  Devonshire. " 

"I  never  heard  a  word  about  Devonshire  until  you 
mentioned  it  at  lunch.  Couldn't  you  make  some 
excuse — tell  Lady  Porter  that  you  have  been  ordered 
abroad  for  your  health,  or  that  Nanny  will  be  offended 
if  you  don't  go  with  her,  or  something  of  that  sort?" 

"But  why?  I  want  to  go  to  Devonshire  and  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  Trouville. ' ' 

"Oh!     In  that  case  I  suppose  you  will  leave  us." 

"Certainly.  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  make  a 
grievance  of  my  desertion." 


288  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Oil  no.      But   it   knocks  all    the  fun  of  the  thing  on 

the  head." 

"What  a  pity!" 

"I  am  quite  in  earnest,  you   know." 

"Nob  >dy  could  doubt  it,  looking  at  your  face.      Can 

nothing  be  done  to  console  you?" 

"Poking  fun  at  me  is  not  the  way  to  console  me. 
Why  do  JTOtl  want  to  go  to  Devonshir-  It's  about 
the  worst  climate  in  England  for  anyone  with  a  weak 
chest:   m;:  '  .  and  tepid.  " 

"I  have    not  a  we.ik   chest    I  am  glad  to  say.      Have 

you  ever  been  in  Devonshire 

"No.  :t  I   have  heard  about  it   from   people  who 

lived  there  f<  .nd  had  to  leave  it  at  last." 

"I  am  going  for  a  month  only." 

Hoskyn  began  to  twirl  th<  i  the  blind  round  his 

for'  er.       When     he    had     dashed     the    tassel    twice 

.st  the  i  Ma  ■■  inte 

"Would  it  not  tl       window   if  you 

wish  to  let  in  the  h  ail 

"All    I  can  id    he,    d  Lng   the    tassel, 

"that  you  really  mij  .e  with  us." 

"Very   tl  But   there   are    many   things    I    really 

might  do,  which  I  r<  won't  d         And  one  of  them 

is  to  dis 
uHang  Lady  Geraldine.     At  least,  not  if  she  i 

friend  of  yours  but   I  w.  had  invited  you  at  any 

Other  time.  " 

"I  think  you  have  now  made  (mite  enough  fuss 
rut  my  going  away.  I  am  Battered,  Mr.  Hoskyn, 
and  feel  how  poignantly  you  will  all  miss  me.  So 
let  us  drop  the  subject." 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again,  then?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  289 

"Really  I  do  not  know.  I  hope  I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you  next  season.  Until  then  I 
shall  probably  be  lost  to  view  in  Windsor." 

"If  you  mean  that  we  may  meet  at  dances,  and  that 
sort  of  thing,  we  are  likely  never  to  meet  at  all ;  for  I 
never  go  to  them." 

"Then  you  had  better  take  lessons  in  dancing,  and 
change  your  habits." 

"Not  I.  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  made  a  fool  of  by 
you  without  making  one  of  myself." 

Mary  grew  nervous.  "I  think  we  are  going  back  to 
the  old  subject,"  she  said. 

"No.      I  was  thinking  of    something    else.      Miss 

Sutherland "    here  he  suddenly  raised  his  voice, 

which  broke,  and  compelled  him  to  pause  and  clear  his 
throat — "Miss  Sutherland:  I  hope  I  am  not  going  to 
bungle  this  business  by  being  too  hasty — too  pre- 
cipitate, as  it  were.  But  if  you  are  really  going  away, 
would  you  mind  telling  me  first  whether  you  have  any 
objection  to  think  over  becoming  Mrs.  Hoskyn.  Just 
to  think  over  it,  you  know. ' ' 

Are  you  serious?"  said  Mary,  incredulously. 
Of  course  I  am.     You  don't  suppose  I  would  say 
such  a  thing  in  jest?" 

Mary  discomfited,  privately  deplored  her  womanly 
disability  to  make  friends  with  a  man  without  being 
proposed  to.  "I  think  we  had  better  drop  this  subject, 
too,  Mr.  Hoskyn,"  she  replied.  Then,  recovering  her 
courage,  she  added,  "Of  all  the  arrangements  you 
have  proposed,  I  think  this  is  the  most  injudicious.' 

"We  will  drop  it  of  you  like.  I  am  in  no  hurry — at 
least  I  mean  that  I  don't  wish  to  hurry  you.  But 
you  will  think  it  over  won't  you?" 


290  Love  Among  the  Artists 

";'  i   nut   better   think   over  it   yourself,    Mr. 

Hoskyn?" 

"I  '.  f  it — let  me  see!     I  guess  I  saw 

y  m  fir  and  two  hours  ago. 

Well,  I  have  kinking  over  it  constantly  all  that 

time." 

"Think  better  of  it." 

"1  The  more  T  think  of  it,  the  better  I  think 

of  it.     An  I  if  you  ■  I  shan't  think  the 

wor'.        Tell  m<         ■  thing,  M 
Sutherland,   di  Q   ever  k:  make  a   mistake 

yet?" 

UN   t  in  my  ti       I    -two  hour's  experi- 

ence of  you." 

"7  0  hom         "Well,  I   am  not 

making  a  I]  w.      I'   n't     oncern  your  bout 

my  "n.      I:'  can  hit  it  of! 

ith  m<  mily  afT.   i  ettled 

t"  my  si  What  u  think?" 

"I  D   the  subject.  " 

"For  the  present 

"  I '  ••        -.if  you  ]'"■  •  .  " 

"For  ever  is  a  I  tag  <        .I*-.  too  abrupt. 

But  yon  can  turn  I  w  in  your  mind  whilst 

ing  yom  in  D  There  is  no 

use   in   both*  tit   now,  when  we  are 

all  separating       Hush.     II   i        Nanny." 

Mary  v.  .ted  by  the  entnr  Mrs.  Phi 

im  distinctly  refusing  Mr.   Hoskyn's  pr<  ;      d. 
He.    during    the    rest   of    the   day,  '    to   have 

regained  his  usual  good  spirits,  and  chatted  with  Mary 
without  em1  Ji  he  contrived  not  to 

be  left   alone   with   he        When   she   retired    for    the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  291 

night,  he  had  a  short  conversation  with  his  sister,  who 
asked  whether  he  had  said  anything  to  Mary. 

"Yes." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"She  didn't  say  much.  She  was  rather  floored:  I 
knew  I  was  beginning  too  soon.  We  agreed  to  let  the 
matter  stand  over.     But  I  expect  it  will  be  all  right." 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  agreeing  to  let  the 
matter  stand  over?     Did  she  say  yes  or  no?" 

"She  did  not  jump  at  me.  In  fact  she  said  no;  but 
she  didn't  mean  it." 

"Hoitytoity!  I  wonder  whom  she  would  consider 
good  enough  for  her.    She  may  refuse  once  too  often. ' 

"She  won't  refuse  me.  Though,  if  she  does,  I  don't 
see  why  you  should  lose  your  temper  on  that  score, 
since  you  have  always  maintained  that  I  had  no 
chance." 

"I  am  not  losing  my  temper.  I  knew  perfectly  well 
that  she  would  refuse ;  but  I  think  she  may  go  further 
and  fare  worse." 

"She  hasn't  refused.  And — now  you  mind  what  I 
am  telling  you,  Nanny — not  a  word  to  her  on  the  sub- 
ject. Hold  your  tongue;  and  don't  pretend  to  know 
anything  about  my  plans.     Do  you  hear?" 

"You  need  not  make  such  a  to-do  about  it,  Johnny. 
I  don't  want  to  speak  to  her.  I  am  sure  I  don't  care 
whether  she  marries  you  or  not." 

"So  much  the  better.  If  you  give  her  a  hint  about 
going  further  and  faring  worse — I  know  you  would 
like  to — it  is  all  up  with  me." 

Mary  heard  no  more  about  Mr.  Hoskyn's  suit  just 
then.  She  left  Cavendish  Square  next  day,  and  went 
with  Lady  Geraldine  to  the  south-west  of  Devonshire, 


12  Love  Among  the  Artists 

where-  Sir  [ohl  white  house  with 

a  Dori  in  a    park    surrounded  by 

wooded  hi!         Mary  I  hing  on   the    third 

day,  in  s-   te  of  her  former  to  discontini 

th<  raid!-  '  osy  recovering 

the  manaj  herhou  fterher 

n's  al  with   the  occupation  of 

her  gue   '  '  1  marked  one 

■ning  with  a  sigh : 
l*No  m  .  Mary.     Sir  John  is  comi 

to-B    n  >w.  II                         Mr.  C                        raeer 

of  the   invi  ^ir 

John  becam<  I             ti         tor  company, 

lie  lias  be  ything  here  done 

by  clec •       'v.  W<                                              lectro- 

ra  ha:  tly. " 

"Mr.  C  mil                          then. " 

•<1    mak< 
iy.      But   he   will   ii.  '.ike  r.  I    how 

the  pla  in  iveni<  t  with  his 

mach 

"  y  a  •  .t  he         ming. " 

"I   am  ii.  t.  iny  p<  come    here  in 

the  autumn  whom  I  that  I  have  become 

hardened   to   the  labor  of   entertaining  them.      I  like 
to  have  yonng  pe  •  >nt  me. 

has  to  do  with  me:  )liticians;  and 

he  invites  them  all  to  run  d  >wn   for  a  it  in  the 

off  season.  y  run   down;  and  it   is  seldom   by 

any  mc  nd  them  up  for  conversational 

purposes  until  they  go  away  again." 

"Mr.  Conolly  never  seems  to  require  winding  up. 
Don't  you  like  him?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  293 

1 '  He  never  seems  to  require  anything,  and  it  is  partly 
for  that  reason  that  I  don't  like  him.  I  have  no  fault 
to  find  with  him — that  is  another  reason,  I  think. 
Since  I  met  him  I  have  become  ever  so  much  more 
tolerant  of  human  frailty.  I  respect  the  brute ;  but  I 
don't  like  him. 

This  Mr.  Conolly  was  known  to  Mary  as  a  man  who, 
having  been  an  obscure  workman,  had  suddenly 
become  famous  as  the  inventor  of  something  called  an 
electro-motor,  by  which  he  had  made  much  money. 
He  had  then  married  a  highly  born  young  lady, 
celebrated  in  society  for  her  beauty.  Not  long  after- 
wards she  had  eloped  with  a  gentleman  of  her  own 
rank,  whom  she  had  known  all  her  life.  Conolly  had 
thereupon  divorced  her,  and  resumed  his  bachelor  life, 
displaying  so  little  concern,  that  many  who  knew  her 
had  since  regarded  him  with  mistrust  and  dislike,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  not  the  man  to  make  a  home  for  a 
young  woman  accustomed  to  the  tenderest  considera- 
tion and  most  chivalrous  courtesy  in  her  father's  set. 
Even  women,  whose  sympathy  he  would  not  keep  in 
countenance  by  any  pretence  of  broken-heartedness, 
had  taken  his  wife's  part  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  ought 
never  to  have  married  her.  Mary  had  heard  this 
much  of  his  history  in  the  course  of  gossip,  and  had 
met  him  a  few  times  in  society  in  London. 

"I  don't  dislike  him,"  she  said,  in  reply  to  Lady 
Geraldine's  last  remark;  "but  he  is  an  unanswerable 
sort  of  person;  and  I  doubt  if  it  would  make  the 
slightest  difference  to  him  whether  the  whole  world 
hated  or  loved  him. " 

"Just  so.  Can  anything  be  more  unamiable?  Such 
a  man  ought  to  be  a  judge,  or  an  executioner." 


>4  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"After   .ill,    he    is  only  a   man;    and   he   must   ha 

some  feeling,"  said  Mary. 

"If  he  has  he  ought  to  sh«>w  it,"  said  Lady  Geraldine. 

A  ant   just   then   entered   with    letters    whieh    1: 

come  by  the  evening    mail.     There   were  ^>me    for 

Mary;   among  them  one  addressed   in  a  rapid   business 

hand  whieh  she  did   not   rec  -ned  them 

ntly,  think        that  a  litt'  t  Herbert 

and  Jaek  would  Boon  remove  I-  raldine's objec- 

tion   to   Conolly'a   power  of   self-control.       Then     she 

al   the    letters.       «  >ne   was    from    Mi  OS,    who 

w..  a   hydropathic  establishmei      in  Di 

Another  was  from  hei  I  she  had 

arrived  sa        at   1 1  >uld  enjoy 

herself;  was  sure-  that  the         •        air  would  benefit 

her   health;   ar.  1   nothing   more    '  nt 

it  would   write  u.  e  third  letter,  a  long1 

one  in  a  Btrange  hand,  roused  hi  tion. 

Langham  Hotel,  London,  \ 
ioth  Augn 

Dear    Miss  rland: — I    have   returned    for  a  few 

days  from  Trouville,  where  I  "  N  rand  the  chil- 
dren fried.  I  v  a  tele- ram 
from  our  head  offi<  ej   and  now   that  my  business  there 

is  transacted,    I    have    nothing  •  i>t  lounj 

around  this  .  UTacl  1  until  I  take  it  into 

my   head   I  k  to   Trouville.      I  mi  ndish 

great  Three    or  four   time         day   I   find 

myself  pr  ng  to  go  there,  forgetting  that  there  is 

nobody  in  the  house,  nnl<  Nanny  has  left  the  eat  to 
starve,  as  she  did  two  j         ago.     You  cannot  imagine 

how    lonely    I     find     I-  n.       The    hotel    is    full    of 

Amerieans;    and    I    have     -  quaintance   with 

most  of  them;  but  I  am  none  the  livelier  for  that: 
somebody    or    something    has    left    a    hole    in    this 


Love  Among  the  Artists  295 

metropolis  that  all  the  Americans  alive  cannot  fill. 
To-night  after  dinner  I  felt  especially  dull.  There 
are  no  plays  worth  seeing  at  this  season;  and  even  if 
there  were,  it  is  no  pleasure  to  me  to  go  to  the  theatre 
by  myself.  I  have  got  out  of  the  way  of  doing  so 
lately;  and  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  ever  get  into  it 
again.  So  I  thought  that  writing  to  you  would  pass 
the  time  as  pleasantly  as  anything. 

You  remember,  I  hope,  a  certain  conversation  we 
had  on  the  2nd  inst.  I  agreed  not  to  return  to  the 
subject  until  you  came  back  from  Lady  Porter's;  but 
I  was  so  flurried  by  having  to  speak  to  you  sooner 
than  I  intended,  that  I  have  been  doubtful  ever  since 
whether  I  put  it  to  you  in  the  right  way.  I  am  afraid 
I  was  rather  vague ;  and  though  it  does  not  do  to  be 
too  business-like  on  such  occasions,  still,  you  have  a 
right  to  know  to  a  fraction  what  my  proposal  means. 
I  know  you  are  too  sensible  to  suppose  that  I  am  going 
into  particulars  from  want  of  the  good  old-fashioned 
sentiment  which  ought  to  be  the  main  point  in  all  such 
matters,  or  by  way  of  offering  you  an  additional 
inducement.  If  you  had  only  yourself  to  look  to,  I 
think  I  should  have  pluck  enough  to  ask  you  to  shut 
your  eyes  and  open  your  mouth  so  far  as  money  is 
concerned ;  but  when  other  interested  parties  who  may 
come  on  the  scene  hereafter  are  to  be  considered,  it  is 
not  only  allowable  but  right  to  go  into  figures. 

There  are  just  four  points,  as  I  reckon  it.  1,  I  am 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  and  have  no  person  depending 
on  me  for  support.  2,  I  can  arrange  matters  so  that 
if  anything  happens  to  me  you  shall  have  a  permanent 
income  of  five  hundred  pounds  per  annum.  3,  I  can 
afford  to  spend  a  thousand  a  year  at  present,  without 
crippling  myself.  4,  These  figures  are  calculated  at  a 
percentage  off  the  minimum,  and  far  understate  what  1 
may  reasonably  expect  my  resources  to  be  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years. 

I  won't  go  any  closer  into  money  matters  with  you, 
because  I  feel  that  bargaining  would  be  out  of  place 


296  Love  Among  the  Artists 

between  as.      You   may   trust   me   that  you  shall  want 

for  nothing,   if !  !  !     I  wish  you  would  help  n 

that  i       VYV  got  along  very  well  together  in  July 
— at  least  I  thought  ad  you  seemed  to  think  so 

t<uj.  stefl  lit    in    together   to  a   T.      Vou   liave 

and   I   admire  it.      If   I  had  it  myself,  I  should 

►US  of  you,  don't  you  As  it  is,  the  more 

and  ad    paint   and    play,    the     better 

a  I,  though  1  don't  say  that  I  would  not  be 
writing  this  letter  all  th       ime  if  't  know  B 

If  you  will  just  for  this  once 

rew  up  your  •  and  say  yes,  I  undertake  on  my 

hall  never   r<  -it. 

An    early   answer   will    shorten   my   suspense.      Not 
that  I  want  you  to  write  without  taking  plenty  of  time 

;     but    just     remember     that    it    will 

appear  cent,   pei  to    me   than  I         u. 

Hoping  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  have  been  unreason- 
able in  following  up  my  •. 

I  am,  dear  Miss  Sutherland, 

M         inceri  ura, 

John  1  [oskyn. 

Mary  thrust  the  I  to  its  envelope,  and  knit 

her  brow         Lad]  itched   her,  pretending 

meanwhile    to    be    occupied    with     her    own    corre- 
ndence. 
"Do  you  know  any  of  Mrs.  Phipson's  family?"  said 
Mary  slowly,  after  some  minut 

-  - 

l4No,M  replied   L  line,  somewhat  contemp- 

tuous'        The:        recol  that    Mr         Phipson's 

daughter  wa     I  :-in-law,  she  added,  "There 

e  brothers  in  Australia  and  Columbia  who  are  very 

rich;  and  the  youngest  is  a  friend  of  Sir  John's.  He's 
in  the  Conolly  Company,  and  is  said  to  be  a  shrewd 
man  of  business.  They  all  were,  I  believe.  Then 
there  were  two  sisters,  Sarah  and  Lizzie  Hoskyn.      I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  297 

can  remember  Lizzie  when  she  was  exactly  like  your 
brother  Dick's  wife.  She  married  a  great  Cornhill 
goldsmith  in  her  first  season.  Altogether,  they  are  a 
wonderful  family:  making  money,  marrying  money, 
putting  each  other  in  the  way  of  making  and  marrying 
more,  and  falling  on  their  feet  everywhere." 

"Are  they  the  sort  of  people  you  like?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  my  dear?" 

"I  think  I  mean  what  I  say,"  said  Mary  laughing. 
"But  do  you  think,  for  example,  that  Mrs.  Phipson's 
brothers  and  sisters  are  ladies  and  gentlemen?" 

"Whether  Dick's  wife's  aunts  or  uncles  are  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  eh?" 

"Never  mind  about  Dick.  I  have  a  reason  for 
asking. ' ' 

"Well  then,  I  think  it  must  be  sufficiently  obvious 
to  everybody  that  they  are  not  what  used  to  be  called 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with 
it?  Rich  middle  class  tradespeople  have  had  their 
own  way  in  society  and  in  everything  else  as  long  as 
I  can  remember.  Even  if  we  could  go  back  to  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  now,  we  could  not  stand  them. 
Look  at  the  county  set  here — either  vapid  people  with 
affected  manners,  or  pigheaded  people  with  no  manners 
at  all.  Each  set  seems  the  worst  until  you  try 
another." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you — I  mean  about  the 
Hoskyns, "  said  Mary.  And  she  changed  the  subject. 
But  at  bedtime,  when  she  bade  Lady  Geraldine 
goodnight,  she  handed  her  Hoskyn's  letter,  saying, 
"Read  that;  and  tell  me  to-morrow  what  you  think 
of  it." 

Lady   Geraldine   read    the    letter   in   bed,   and  lay 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

awake,  thinking-  of  it  for  half  an  hour  later  than  usual. 

In   the    morning,    Mary,    I  leaving    her    room, 

received  a  nol        It  ran : 

"Sir  John  will  come  by  the  three  train.     II e  can  chat 
ir.is-         7  lie  mitt  Mr.  Conolly  arc  settled  lu 
7" my  mind. — (j.  /'. " 

Mary    US  I    from    this  that    she    was  not   bo 

proach    th  ect    of    Mr.    Eloskyn    until    Lady 

raldine  invited  h<        At  breakfast  no  allusion  w 

made  to  him,  (  t   that   01  hanced  to 

k  at  one  another,  they  la  But  Lady  Geral- 

dine   immediately    after-.  i  r    than 

usual,  and  began  to  talk  about  the  dairy  farm. 

At   thr<         'clock    Sir  John,  heavy,  double   chinm 

and  white  haired        Lved  with  a  younger  man  in  a 

Mr.  Conolly,"  said    Sir    John,  as  they  pi 

un        the  D  "H-  re  we  are  at  last." 

A-        me,"    said    (        lly,    content  Lady 

Geraldine,   wh  1  there  to    ?  them,   looked 

at  him  quickly,  her  hospitality  gratified  by  the  word. 

Then   the   thought   <>f   what   fa  of   his  own 

home  1         ned  her  h<  him.     Her  habitual 

candid  manner  and  abundance  of   shrewd  comment 

fo  her     in    his    presenee.  ie    was    silent     8 

rupul  "    polil         tnd   by   that    Mary  and    Sir   John 

knew  that  she  was  under  the  eonstraint  of  strong 
dislike  to  her  ^lie- 
Later  in  the  a:  lly  asked  permission  to 
visit  the  farm,  and  inquired  whether  there  was  any 
running  water  in  the  r.ei-hborho-  Sir  John  pro- 
posed to  accompany  him;  but  he  declined,  on  the 
ground  that  a  prospecting-  engineer  was  the  worst  of 


Love  Among  the  Artists  299 

bad  company.  When  he  was  gone,  Lady  Geraldine's 
bosom  heaved  with  relief:  she  recovered  her  spirits, 
and  presently  followed  Sir  John  to  the  library,  where 
they  had  a  long  conversation  together.  Having  con- 
cluded it  to  her  satisfaction,  she  was  leaving  the  room, 
when  Sir  John,  who  was  seated  at  a  writing  table, 
coughed  and  said  mildly: 

" My  dear." 

Lady  Geraldine  closed  the  door  again,  and  turned  to 
listen. 

"I  was  thinking,  as  we  came  down  together,"  said 
Sir  John  slowly,  smiling  and  combing  his  beard  with 
his  fingers,  "that  perhaps  he  might  take  a  fancy  that 
way. ' ' 

"Who?" 

"Conolly,  my  dear." 

"Stuff!"   said    Lady  Geraldine  sharply.      Sir  John 
smiled  in  deprecation.     "At  least,"  she  added,  repent- 
ing, "I  mean  that  he  is  married  already." 
But  he  is  free  to  marry  again." 
Besides,  he  is  not  a  gentleman." 
Well,"  said  Sir  John,  good  humoredly,  "I  think  we 
agreed  just  now  that  that  did  not  matter." 

"Yes,  in  Hoskyn's  case." 

"Just  so.  1  Now  Conolly  is  a  man  of  greater  culture 
than  Hoskyn.  Of  course,  it  is  only  a  notion  of  mine ; 
and  I  dare  say  you  are  quite  right  if  you  disapprove 
of  it.  But  since  Mary  is  a  girl  with  nice  tastes — for 
art  and  so  forth — I  thought  that  perhaps  she  might 
not  suit  a  thorough  man  of  business.  Hoskyn  is  only 
an  Americanized  commercial  traveller." 

"Conolly  is  an  American  too.  But  that  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it.     Conolly  treated  his  wife  badly :  that  is 


4  1 
(  ( 
((' 


300  Love   Among  the  Artists 

enough  for  mc.  I  am  certain  he  would  make  any 
woman  miserable." 

MIfhet  1 " 

"But,  . "    interrupted    Lady    Geraldine,    with 

restrained     impatience,    "don't    you    know    ho    did? 

•  it.  " 
Sir   Jol  I    himself    placidly.       uTh<  ty 

,"    he    said.      "I    am    afraid    he  was   not  all   that   he 

should    have  to    her.     She    waa    a  charming 

creature — great  b  tld,  I  th  it  rectitude. 

Dear  mi  i  usual,  Joldi       It  would 

■:it. " 

Lady  G        line  I  :t   the  library,  and  went  todrc 

for  din:         '.istur'  ility  which  Sir  John 

had  sugg  dinner  she  watched  (  md 

oh  he   cor.  th    Mary,    and 

more  than  she  on  all  h<  -         >rite  sul 
jei  •  n  they  were   in  the  drawing 

ro      .  M  him  wh<       r  he  played  the  pian 

A-    :  -1   in   the   affirmative,  I  raldine   w 

him  to  :  with  a  performance. 

At  their  request  he  |  Jack's  music,  much 

m  himself  played  it. 

Then    he    made    M  •...:"  k    by    h 

eclamatory    si  which    jarred    La  ly    Geraldine 

nerves  nearly  as  much  as  it  1  Mrs.  Phipson's.  He- 
next  sang  himself,  M  tnying  him,  and  at 
first          ted  Lady  G  rich  baritone  voice, 

and  then  :  1  her  sv.-picions   '  g  a  serenade 

with.  .  which  shi  .ately  set  down  a; 

a  cold-blooded  hypocrisy  on  his  part.  She  at  last 
persuaded  herself  that  he  was  deliberately  trying  to 
engage  the   affections  of  Mary,  with   the   intention  of 


Love  Among  the  Artists  301 

making  her  his  second  wife.  Afterwards,  he  went  out 
with  Sir  John,  who  often  smoked  cigars  after  dinner 
in  the  portico,  and  was  fond  of  having  a  companion 
on  such  occasions. 

"Thank  goodness!"  said  Lady  Geraldine.  "Blue- 
beard has  gone;  and  we  can  have  our  chat  at  last." 

"Why  Bluebeard?"  said  Mary,  laughing.  "His 
beard  is  auburn.  Has  he  been  married  more  than 
once?" 

"No.  But  mark  my  words,  he  will  marry  at  least 
half-a-dozen  times;  and  he  will  kill  all  his  wives, 
unless  they  run  away  from  him,  as  poor  Marian  did. 
However,  so  long  as  he  does  not  marry  us,  he  can  do 
as  he  likes.  The  question  of  the  day  is,  what  are  you 
going  to  say  to  Mr.  John  Hoskyn?" 

"Oh!"  said  Mary,  her  face  clouding.  "Let  Mr. 
John  Hoskyn  wait.     I  wish  he  were  in  America." 

"And  why?"  said  Lady  Geraldine  in  an  obstinate 
tone. 

"Because  I  want  to  enjoy  my  visit  here  and  not  be 
worried  by  his  proposals." 

"You  can  answer  him  in  five  minutes,  and  then 
enjoy  your  visit  as  much  as  if  he  actually  were  in 
America." 

"That  is  true.  Except  that  it  will  take  much  longer 
than  five  minutes  to  devise  a  letter  that  will  not  hurt 
his  feelings  too  much." 

"I  could  write  a  sensible  letter  for  you  that  would 
not  hurt  his  feelings  at  all. ' ' 

"Will  you?  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged.  I  hate 
refusing  people." 

"Mary:  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  be  foolish  about 
this  offer." 


3<>2  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 

"Do   you   mean,"  said    Mary,  astonished,  "that  you 

:nc  to  accept  it. " 

"Most   decidedly." 

"But   you   said   last  night  that  he   was  not  even    a 
atleman." 

"<  >h,  a  gentlemai  Nonsen  What  is  a  gentle- 
man?  Who  is  a  gentleman  nowadays?    Is  Mr.  Conolly, 

with   whom   you  seem   so  well   pi  1"  (Mary  opened 

her  eyes  •.  ■  ■'  man?    Or  Mr.  Jack?" 

"1'  Mr.  Herbert  a  gentleman?" 

"Yes,   I  yon   that.      I    i         A   him;   but  I  only 

conclude   from   your    expel  of    him   that   a   mere 

atleman  would  not  i  i  at  all.     I1 

like  Mr.    Hoskyn?" 

"No.     Bu1  then  I  solutely  dislike  any  man; 

and  I  know  nearly  a  hundred." 

"Is  th<  whom  you  like  betf 

"N  I    am  only  of  people 

we  marry.  .at  is  n  ing  much. 

I   heard   that  he   was   lea  the  country  for  ever, 

I  shonl  r  rcl i  than  otherwise." 

"Yes,   my  dear,   I   know  it  is  very  anoying  to  be 

ike  v.  e's  mind.  >u   will  gain 

nothing  by  putting         :T.     I  ha-.  king  t>>  Sir 

John  ..bout  Mr.  Hoskyn;  an  I  i  verything  he  has  told 

me  is  sat:  tOTy  in  the  highest 

"I    am    Mire   of    it.      !<■  aide,    well   off,     rising, 

d<  ttached  t«»  n.        ilculates  his  figures  at  a 

percentage  off  the  minimum,  and  so  forth." 

"Mary,"  said  Lady  Geraldine  gravely:  "have  I 
men;  I  even  one  of  those  points  to  you'" 

"No,"  said  M.irv,  taken  a  little  aback.      "But  what 

- 

other  light  can  you  see  him  in?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  303 

"In  the  best  of  all  lights:  that  of  a  comfortable 
husband.  I  am  in  dread  for  you  lest  your  notions  of 
high  art  should  make  you  do  something  foolish. 
When  you  have  had  as  much  experience  as  I,  you  will 
know  that  genius  no  more  qualifies  a  man  to  be  a 
husband  than  good  looks,  or  fine  manners,  or  noble 
birth,  or  anything  else  out  of  a  story  book." 

"But  want  of  genius  is  still  less  a  qualification." 
"Genius,  Mary,  is  a  positive  disqualification. 
Geniuses  are  morbid,  intolerant,  easily  offended, 
sleeplessly  self-conscious  men,  who  expect  their  wives 
to  be  angels  with  no  further  business  in  life  than  to 
pet  and  worship  their  husbands.  Even  at  the  best 
they  are  not  comfortable  men  to  live  with;  and  a 
perfect  husband  is  one  who  is  perfectly  comfortable 
to  live  with.  Look  at  the  matter  practically.  Do  you 
suppose,  you  foolish  child,  that  I  am  a  bit  less  happy 
because  Sir  John  does  not  know  a  Raphael  from  a 
Redgrave,  and  would  accept  the  last  waltz  cheerfully 
as  a  genuine  something-or-other  by  Bach  in  B  minor? 
Our  tastes  are  quite  different;  and,  to  confess  the 
truth,  I  was  no  more  romantically  in  love  with  him 
when  we  were  married  than  you  are  at  present  with 
Mr.  Hoskyn.  Yet  where  will  you  find  such  a  modern 
Darby  and  Joan  as  we  are?  You  hear  Belle  Saunders 
complaining  that  she  has  'nothing  in  common'  with  her 
husband.  What  cant!  As  if  any  two  beings  living 
in  the  same  world  must  not  have  more  things  in 
common  than  not;  especially  a  husband  and  wife 
living  in  the  same  house,  on  the  same  income,  and 
owning  the  same  children.  Why,  I  have  something 
in  common  with  Macalister,  the  gardener.  I  can  find 
you  a  warning  as  well  as  an  example,     I  knew  Mr, 


304  Love  Among  the  Artists 

lly'a  Wlf  •'  well  before  she  was  married.      She 

was  man  of   whom   it   was   impossible   to  believe 

anything  bad.     In  an  evil  hour  she  met  Conolly  at  a 
charity  concert  where  they  had  both  promised  to  sin 
course  he  sang  as  if  he  was  all  softness  and  gentle- 

8,  mueli  as  he  did  just  now,  probably.      Then  there 

.  charmii         >man  he,  like  you,  was  fund  of 

bonks,  pictUl  ind  music.      lb-  knew  all  about  them. 

ry    h  •     and    candid:    he     a    statue   of 

ty.     He  was  1         -.ins  too;  and  his  fame  was  a 

ity  then:    cv  ly  talked   of  him.      Never  was 

there   such   an  match.      She   was  the   only 

woman    in    England  worthy  of  him:   he  the  only  man 
rthy  of  her.      We'.'.,    she    married    him,    in   spite  of 
the   patent    fact   that   with  all  his  genius,  he   is  a  most 
ancomfortabl  n.       She   endured    him     for    t\ 

1   then   ran  away  with  an  an  ckhead 

wh  -mmend  him  to  her  1  m 

imposing  unlikeness  to 

her  husband.  r  been  he  >(  since.      If 

she   had    marr:  man   like   Hoskyn,   she 

D    a    fa  '   wife    and   mother  tO-day. 

But  she  was  lis  a:  she  thought  that  taking  a  hus- 
band was  the  same  thing  a  Sfag  *  gentleman  to 

talk  m  with. " 

"I   think    I   had  better   advertise,    'Wanted:   a  com- 
fortable husband.      Applicants  need  not  be  handsome, 
the  lady  is  Bl  itcd. '     It  sounds  very  prosaic, 

Lady  Geraldine. " 

,4It  is  prosaic.    I  to"  1  once  before  that  the  world 

is  not  a  stac;e  for  you  to  play  the  heroine  on.  Like  all 
young  people,  you  want  an  exalted  motive  for  every 
step  you  take. " 


Love  Among  the  Artists  305 


u 


;I  confess  I  do.  However,  you  have  forgotten  to 
apply  your  argument  to  Mr.  Hoskyn's  case.  If  people 
with  artistic  tastes  are  all  uncomfortable,  I  must  be 
uncomfortable;  and  that  is  not  fair  to  him." 

"No  matter.  He  is  in  love  with  you.  Besides, you 
are  not  artistic  enough  to  be  uncomfortable.  You 
have  been  your  father's  housekeeper  too  long." 

" And  you  really  advise  me  to  marry  Mr.  Hoskyn?" 

Lady.  Geraldine  hesitated.  "I  think  you  can  hardly 
expect  me  to  take  the  responsibility  of  directly  advis- 
ing you  to  marry  any  man.  It  is  one  of  the  things 
that  people  must  do  for  themselves.  But  I  certainly 
advise  you  not  to  be  deterred  from  marrying  him  by 
any  supposed  incompatibility  in  your  tastes,  or  by  his 
not  being  a  man  of  genius. " 

"I  wonder  would  Mr.  Conolly  marry  me." 

"Mary!" 

"It  was  an  unmaidenly  remark,"  said  Mary, 
laughing. 

"It  is  undignified  for  a  sensible  girl  to  play  at  being 
silly,  Mary.  I  hope  you  have  no  serious  intention 
beneath  your  jesting.  If  you  have,  I  shall  be  very 
sorry  indeed  for  having  allowed  Mr.  Conolly  to  meet 
you  here. ' ' 

"Not  the  slightest,  I  assure  you.  Why,  Lady 
Geraldine,  you  look  quite  alarmed." 

"I  do  not  trust  Mr.  Conolly  much.  Marian  Lind 
was  infatuated  by  him ;  and  another  woman  may  share 
her  fate — unless  she  happens  to  share  my  feeling 
towards  him,  in  which  case  she  may  be  regarded  as 
perfectly  safe.  He  is  a  dangerous  subject.  Let  us 
leave  him  and  come  back  to  our  main  business.  Is 
Mr.  Hoskyn  to  be  made  happy  or  not?" 


306  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"I  don't  want  to   marry  at  all.      Let  him   have  M 
C  -irns:   she  would  suit  him  '•>'•" 

"W<  Jl,  if  you   don't  want  to  marry  at  all,  mv  dear, 
the:-  is  an  end  of  it.     I  have  said  all    I  can.     Von  must 

decide  for  yourself. " 

Mary,  perceiving  that  Lady  Geraldine  felt  offended, 

was  about  t«>  make  .1   BOOthing      I     ech,   when  she  heard 
a  chair   move,  and,  looking   U]         IW   that   Conolly   v. 
in  the  rwm. 
"Do   I    disturb 
NTot    at    all,"    Said     Lady    I '.  -valdine    with    dignity, 

lo<  at  him  rather  54  and  wondering  how 

long  he  had  e. 

"We  were  d  JSCUSsil  v, "  said    Mary. 

"Ah'  nely.      "And  have  yon  arrived  at 

any  im; 

•  imp  ■ 
"What  about?— if  I  m.      a  '.." 
"About  mar  |  hastily 

on   Mary's  ad    I  fully   at    her. 

Mary  felt  her  <  but   &h<  him  boldly. 

"And  b  the  usual  conclusions?"  he 

,vn  near  them. 

"What  are  the  usual  concl  id  Mai  v. 

"That   marri          is    a    mi--  That    men    who 

surrender    their    lil              ami  v.            i    who   surrender 

their  im  .denee,  are  That  children  are  a 
nuisance.      And,            rth." 

"We  hav<           corn*  such  conclusions     We 

rather  started  in  with   th<  that  marriage  is 

a  net  y  evil,  and  were  *ing  how  to  make  the 
best  of  it." 

"On  which  point  you  diff  ■:"  course." 


t  ( 

( t 


Love  Among  the  Artists  307 

"Why  of  course?" 

"Because  Lady  Geraldine  is  married  and  you  are 
not.  Can  I  help  you  to  arrive  at  a  compromise?  I 
am  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  task,  because  I  am  not 
married,  and  yet  I  have  been  married." 

Lady  Geraldine,  who  had  turned  her  chair  so  as  to 
avert  her  face  from  him,  looked  round.  Disregarding 
this  mute  protest,  he  continued,  addressing  Mary. 
Will  you  tell  me  the  point  at  issue?" 

It  is  not  so  very  important,"  said  Mary,  a  little 
confused.  "We  were  only  exchanging  a  few  casual 
remarks.  A  question  arose  as  to  whether  the  best 
men  make  the  best  husbands.  I  mean  the  cleverest 
men — men  of  genius,  for  instance.  Lady  Geraldine 
said  no.  She  maintains  that  a  good-natured  block- 
head makes  a  far  better  husband  than  a  Caesar  or  a 
Shakspere." 

"Did  you  say  that?"  said  Conolly  to  Lady  Geraldine, 
with  a  smile. 

"No,"  she  replied,  almost  uncivilly.  "Blockheads 
are  never  good-natured.  At  best,  they  are  only  lazy. 
I  said  that  a  man  might  be  a  very  good  husband 
without  any  special  culture  in  the  arts  and  sciences. 
Mary  seemed  to  think  that  any  person  who  under- 
stands as  much  of  painting  as  an  artist,  is  a  person 
who  sympathizes  with  that  artist,  and  therefore  a 
suitable  match  for  her — or  him.  I  disagree  with  her. 
I  believe  that  community  of  taste  for  art  has  just  as 
much  to  do  with  matrimonial  happiness  as  com- 
munity of  taste  for  geography  or  roast  mutton,  and  no 
more." 

"And  no  more,"  repeated  Conolly.  "You  are  quite 
right.     Heroes  are  ill  adapted  to  domestic  purposes. 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

That  is  what  you  mean,  is  it  not?  Perhaps  Miss 
Sutherland  will  be  content  with  nothing  less  than  a 
her< '. " 

1  Mary.    "  Bnt  T  will  never  admit  that  a  man 
t  the  K  cording  to  you, 

[h<  .         man    who 

.-r  that  she  may  I        mfortably 

in  her  own  h  I  do  not  make         'lute 

hei        i  an    in  >  not  know 

tly  what  b  m   m  ;   but   I   think  a  man  may 

1  to  be  f:  om  vulgar  pre ju- 

di  auti- 

ful ;  and  to  ha'  himself   that  his  w: 

D    alw  m    hi  and     moral 

rectitud        I:    must   "        errible   to   1;  nstant 

dread   ol  'temper   from  one 

husb.  P  to  1  that  he  will  not 

act  lil 

C  and  then,  with  an 

intent  d  n  which  ;  full*  iphasia  I 

his  v  .   little   I  with   his  hands 

r  live  with  a  per- 
son whose  temper  was  impertu:  e — who  never 
he  rinci;  '.<  .  and  never  swerved 
fro-  the}-  e  who,  whatever  he 
might  be  to  him  u  so  void  of  the  petty 
usies,  irritabilil  and  super  of  ordinary 
men,  that,  as  far  as  you  unci-  od  his  view  of  life, 
you  could  calculate  upon  his  correct  behavior  before- 
hand in  every  crisis  with  as  much  certainty  as  upon 
the  striking  of  a  clo 

"No,"   said    Lady    Geraldine    emphatically,    before 
Mary  could  reply;  "and  I  should  not  like  to,  either." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  309 


n- 


;You  are  always  right,"  said  Conolly.  "Yet  such  a 
person  would  fulfil  Miss  Sutherland's  conditions. 
Like  Hamlet,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Mary,  "you 
want  a  man  that  is  not  Passion's  slave.  I  hope  you 
may  never  get  him ;  for  I  assure  you  you  will  not  like 
him.  He  would  make  an  excellent  God,  but  a  most 
unpleasant  man,  and  an  unbearable  husband.  What 
could  you  be  to  a  wholly  self-sufficient  man?  Affec- 
tion would  be  a  superfluity  with  which  you  would  be 
ashamed  to  trouble  him.  I  once  knew  a  lady  whom  I 
thought  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  accomplished, 
and  the  most  honest  of  her  sex.  This  lady  met  a  man 
who  had  learned  to  stand  alone  in  the  world — a  hard 
lesson,  but  one  that  is  relentlessly  forced  on  every 
sensitive  but  unlovable  boy  who  has  his  own  way  to 
make,  and  who  knows  that,  outside  himself,  there  is 
no  God  to  help  him.  This  man  had  realized  all  that 
is  humanly  possible  in  your  ideal  of  a  self-disciplined 
man.  The  lady  was  young,  and,  unlike  Lady  Geral- 
dine,  not  wise.  Instead  of  avoiding  his  imperturbable 
self-sufficiency,  she  admired  it ;  loved  it ;  and  married 
it.  She  found  in  her  husband  all  that  you  demand. 
She  never  had  reason  to  dread  his  temper,  or  to  doubt 
his  sense  and  honor.  He  needed  no  petting,  no 
counsel,  no  support.  He  had  no  vulgar  prejudices 
against  art,  and,  indeed,  was  fonder  of  it  than  she 
was.  What  she  felt  about  him  I  can  only  conjecture. 
But  I  know  that  she  ceased  to  love  him,  whilst  around 
her  thousands  of  wives  were  clinging  fondly  to 
husbands  who  bullied  and  beat  them,  to  fools,  savages, 
drunkards,  knaves,  Passion's  slaves  of  many  patterns, 
but  all  weak  enough  to  need  caresses  and  forgiveness 
occasionally.     Eventually  she  left  him,  and  it  served 


;^io  Love  Among  the  Artists 

him  right;   for  this   □  •    had   never 

rfeited  his  wi£  em,  or  tried  h< 

by  v  -1,  had  kd  her  to  belie-      that  he  wou 

be  as  happy  without  h<  with  hi  A  man  who  is 

comj  n  hi::  wife.      If  you  value  your 

happiness,   seek  who    needs   you,    wl 

be  -is  death  to 

him,  w:  need  you.     Have  I  m        my- 

self ck-arv" 

l4Yes,"  "'    '">'.      "I   think  I  urn  I    1;   though 

[  d  ly  I  i 

Sir  John*-.  G      in  just  then,  rtune'         ongh;   and 

t  the  pro- 
jects of  tl     I  iny,  although  the  ladies  were  the: 
by  ■                     m  an]  t  in  the  con- 

vc:           n.      Mary   took   the  ay, 

un:.                         by  her  fa                   When  (  .Men- 
tion was  w\<   .                                           lg  to  the  library  for 

me    |                                .nd     himself  with     Lady 
dine. 

•     '  I 

with                                           reluctance   to  |      him: 

ngh  you  v.  re  of  it,   y(  >u 

ch                    I  unfortunate  moment  for  ur 

views  to  Mi         itherlan        There  are  cirenmstan 

which  re:  ry  u:  that  her  judgment 

should  be  1  just  at  present." 

"I     hardly     follow  u,'         lid    C  >  ,     with    a 

aignant  self  ion  which  made  Lad    G  traldine 

privately  quail.      "Av    y    D  to  the  suit  of  Mr. 

Hoskyn?"      She  looked   at   him   in  consternation.      "I 
see  you  are  surpr  my  knowledge  of  Miss  Suther- 

land's affairs,"   he  continued.       4'But  that  only  con- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  3 1 1 

vinces  me  that  you  do  not  know  Mr.  Hoskyn.  In 
business  matters  he  can  sometimes  keep  a  secret.  In 
personal  matters  he  is  indiscretion  personified. 
Everybody  in  Queen  Victoria  Street,  from  the  messen- 
ger to  the  Chairman,  is  informed  of  the  state  of  his 
affections." 

"But  why,  if  you  knew  this,  did  you  talk  as  you 
did?" 

"Because,"  said  he,  smiling  at  her  impatience,  "I 
did  not  then  know  that  you  disapproved  of  his 
proposal." 

"Mr.  Conolly,"  said  Lady  Geraldine,  trying  to 
speak  politely:  "I  don't  disapprove  of  it." 

"Then  we  are  somehow  at  cross  purposes.  I  too, 
approve;  and  as  Hoskyn  is  not,  to  my  knowledge, 
likely  to  be  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  a  young  lady  of  Miss 
Sutherland's  culture,  I  ventured  to  warn  her  that  he 
might  be  all  the  better  qualified  to  make  her  happy." 

"I  told  her  so  myself.  But  if  you  want  to  encourage 
a  young  girl  to  marry,  surely  it  is  not  a  very  judicious 
thing  to  give  such  a  bad  account  of  your  own  married 

life " 

Of  my  own  married  life?" 

I  mean,"  said  Lady  Geraldine,  coloring  deeply,  "of 
your  own  experience  of  married  life — what  you  have 
observed  in  others."  She  stopped,  feeling  that  this 
was  a  paltry  evasion,  and  added,  "I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  fear  I  have  made  a  very  painful  blunder. " 

"No.  An  allusion  to  my  marriage — from  you — 
does  not  pain  me.  I  know  your  sympathies  are  not 
with  me;  and  I  am  pleased  to  think  that  they  are 
therefore  where  they  are  most  needed  and  deserved. 
As  to  Miss  Sutherland,  I  do  not  think  that  what  I  said 


"1 
t  *■ 


3  1 2  Love  Among  the  Artists 

will  have  the  effect  you  fear.  In  any  case,  my  wordfl 

>nd  recall.     It  sh  Mr.  Hoskyn,  I  shall 

bear  the  blame.  1  she  B  ta  him,  I  will  claim  to 
ha'.          eil  y 

5he  would  be  angry  if  she  knew  that  you  were 

av  all  the  I  re  talking,  of  her  position." 

"Angry  with  me:  yea     That  does  not  matter.     But 

if  she  knew  that   Mr.   Hoskyn  had   told   me  she  would 
ry    with    him;    and    that    would    matter    very 
much. " 

Before    Lady   '  tte    com  I  \   her  husband 

returned;  and  Conolly  withdrew  shortly  afterwards 
for  the  night. 

Next  day,  Mary  received  from  Hoskyn  a  second 
letter  '•  her  to   p     •  I    me   her  answer   until   he 

had  seen   her,  as  he  had  n  nvinced  that 

ich  m  I  I    be  conducted  |         dally  in 

ofbywritin.        Afl   BOOn   as   he  ha  tained  which 

hotel  was  the  n<  John's  house,  he  would, 

he  wrote,  put  up  th<  .  and  ask  Mary  I  ntrive  one 
long  interview.  She  was  nut  to  mention  his  presence 
to  Lady  Geraldini  hould  think  he  ted 

to  be  asked  on  a  visit.      Mary  immediately  made  Lady 
Geraldine  promise  that  he  should  not  be  asked  on  a 
sit;  and    then,   to    avoid    the  threatened  interview, 
made  up  her  mind  and  wrote  to  him  as  follows: 

Dear  Mr.  Hoskyn: — I  shall  not  give  you  the  trouble 
of  coming  down  here  to  urge  what  you  so  frankly 
proposed  in  your  first  letter.  1  trust  it  will  relieve 
your  anxiety  to  learn  that  I  have  decided  to  accept 
your  offer.  However,  as  the  position  we  are  now  in 
is  one  that  we  could  not  properly  maintain  whilst 
visiting  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  I  beg  that  you  will 


Love  Among  the  Artists  313 

give  up  all  idea  of  seeing  me  until  I  leave  Devonshire. 
My  social  duties  here  are  so  heavy  that  I  can  hardly, 
without  seeming  rude,  absent  myself  to  write  a  long 
letter.  I  suppose  you  will  go  back  to  Trouville  until 
we  all  return  to  London. 

I  am,  dear  Mr.  Hoskyn, 

Yours  sincerely, 
Mary  Sutherland. 

Mary  composed  this  letter  with  difficulty,  and  sub- 
mitted it  to  Lady  Geraldine,  who  said,  "It  is  not  very 
loving.  That  about  your  social  duties  is  a  fib.  And 
you  want  him  to  go  to  Trouville  because  he  cannot 
write  so  often. ' ' 

"I  can  do  no  better,"  said  Mary.  "But  you  are 
right.  I  will  burn  it  and  write  him  another,  refusing 
him  point  blank.     That  will  be  the  shortest." 

"No,  thank  you.  This  will  do  very  well."  And 
Lady  Geraldine  closed  it  with  her  own  hands  and  sent 
it  to  the  post.  Later  in  the  afternoon  Mary  said,  "I 
am  exceedingly  sorry  I  sent  that  letter.  I  have  found 
out  my  real  mind  about  Mr.  Hoskyn  at  last.  I  detest 
him." 

Lady  Geraldine  only  laughed  at  her. 


BOOK    II 


315 


CHAPTER   I 

One  evening  the  concert  room  in  St.  James's  Hall 
was  crowded  with  people  waiting  to  hear  the  first  public 
performance  of  a  work  by  Mr.  Owen  Jack,  entitled 
"Prometheus  Unbound."  It  wanted  but  a  minute  to 
eight  o'clock;  the  stalls  were  filling  rapidly;  the 
choristers  were  already  in  their  seats ;  and  there  was 
a  din  of  tuning  from  the  band.  Not  far  from  the 
orchestra  sat  Mr.  John  Hoskyn,  with  a  solemn  air  of 
being  prepared  for  the  worst,  and  carefully  finished 
at  the  tie,  gloves  and  hair.  Next  him  was  his  wife,  in 
a  Venetian  dress  of  garnet  colored  plush.  Her  black 
hair  was  gathered  upon  her  neck  by  a  knot  of  deep  sea 
green;  and  her  dark  eyes  peered  through  lenses 
framed  in  massive  gold. 

On  the  foremost  side  bench,  still  nearer  to  the 
orchestra,  was  a  young  lady  with  a  beautiful  and 
intelligent  face.  She  was  more  delicately  shaped  than 
Mrs.  Hoskyn,  and  was  dressed  in  white.  Her 
neighbors  pointed  her  out  to  one  another  as  the 
Szczympliga;  but  she  was  now  Mrs.  Adrian  Herbert. 
Her  husband  was  with  her ;  and  his  regular  features 
seemed  no  less  refined  and  more  thoughtful  than  those 
of  his  wife.  Mrs.  Hoskyn  looked  at  him  earnestly  for 
some  time.  Then  she  turned  as  though  to  look  at  her 
husband;  but  she  checked  herself  in  this  movement, 
and  directed  her  attention  to  the  entry  of  Manlius. 
I  have  counted   the    band,"   whispered    Hoskyn; 

3i7 


1 1 


3  i  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"ami  it's  eighty-five  stron.       They  can't  give  them 
much  less  than  d  and  sixpence  apiece    for   the 

night,  which  makes  thirty-two  pounds  all  but  half  a 

crown,  without  countin  re." 

"Nona  '  ter  looking  round  appre- 

hensively to  sec-  whether    her  husband's  remark  had 

:  d.  pounds    apiece    would    be 

r  the — Hush.  " 

The  music  had  just  begun;  and  Hoskyn  had  to 
confine    his   repu  t    Mary's   estimate    to    an 

emphatic  shake  of  the  head.     Tl  rtuj   .  anxiously 

conducted  by   M  y  nervous,  lasted 

nearly  half  an    hour.      When    it   •  .    there   was 

Bilence  for  i  mon         .  then  faint  applause,  then 

sounds    of    d  .1,    then     sufficient     applause     to 

overpower  the        tnd  finally  a  bu        i  convei     tion. 
A  p  ne  &  king  very  uncomfoi 

►le,  rose  to  carry  on  his  \  f  a  •  e  be1  •■■  en 

Prometheus  an  rth,  which  was  tl.         t  numl 

of  the  work.      Tl  ad  fi:. 

th.'  Iy   bu1  n   the   conductor, 

who  hardly  venture  I  to  look  at  them.     The  dialogue 

mmenced;    but    the  the   audience    w 

entry  dr  >m   it  by  the   appearance  of  Jack 

himself,    who   wa  i    cross    th'  >:u    with    an 

angry  countei  .   and    ^o  out.     The  conclusion  of 

the  dialogue  W  unbroken  silence,  in  the 

midst  of  which  the  popular  baritone  sat  down  with  an 
air  (^  relief. 

"I    find   that  the   music  is  lining  to  grow  upon 

me,         lid  Mrs.  Hoskyn. 

"Do  you?"  said  Hoskyn.  "I  wish  it  would  grow 
quicker.      I'm  only  joking,"  he  added,  seeing  that  she 


Love  Among  the  Artists  319 

was  disappointed.  "It's  splendid.  I  wish  I  knew 
enough  about  it  to  like  it;  but  I  can  see  that  it  has 
the  real  classical  style.  When  those  brass  things  come 
in,  it's  magnificent. " 

Two  eminent  songstresses  now  came  forward  as  Asia 
and  Panthea;  and  the  audience  prepared  themselves 
for  the  relief  of  a  pretty  duet.  But  Asia  and  Panthea 
sang  as  strangely  as  Prometheus,  in  spite  of  which 
they  gained  some  slow,  uncertain,  grudging  applause. 
The  "Race  of  the  Hours,"  which  followed,  was  of 
great  length,  progressing  from  a  lugubrious  midnight 
hour  in  E  flat  minor  to  a  sunrise  in  A  major,  and 
culminating  with  a  jubilant  clangor  of  orchestra  and 
chorus  which  astounded  the  audience,  and  elicited  a 
partly  hysterical  mixture  of  hand  clapping  and  protest- 
ing hisses. 

"How  stupid  these  people  are!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Adrian  Herbert.  "What  imbecility!  They  do  not 
know  that  it  is  good  music.     Heaven!" 

"I  must  confess  that,  to  my  ear,  there  is  not  a  note 
of  music  in  it,"  said  Adrian. 

"Is  it  possible!"  said  Aurelie.  "But  it  is  superb! 
Splendid!" 

"It  is  ear  splitting, "  said  Adrian.  "Your  ears  are 
hardier  than  mine,  perhaps.  I  hope  we  shall  hear 
some  melody  in  the  next  part,  by  way  of  variety. ' ' 

"Without  doubt  we  shall.  It  is  a  work  full  of 
melody. ' ' 

Herbert  was  confirmed  in  his  opinion  by  the  final 
number,  entitled,  "Antiphony  of  the  Earth  and 
Moon,"  which  was  listened  to  in  respectful  bewilder- 
ment by  the  audience,  and  executed  with  symptoms  of 
exhaustion  by  the  chorus. 


3 jo  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"1  ,"  said  Hoskyn,  joining  heartily  in  some 

applause  which  began  in  the  cheaper  seats,  "that 
sounded  stupendous.     I'd  like  to  hear  it  again." 

The    clapping,    though     not    enthusiastic,    was   now 

neral,  all  being  .       I  naturedly  willing  that  thecom- 

r  should  be  called  forward  in  acknowledgment  of 

his  efforts,    if  not  of   his   Bucce         Jack,   who    had 

returned  to  hear  the  "Race  of  the  Hours,"  again 
arose;  and   those  who  knew  him  clapped  more  loudly, 

thinking  that  he  was  on  his  w  y  to  the  orchestra.     It 

proved   that  he   v.  n   his  way  to  the  door;    for  he 

went  out  as  ungraciously  re. 

"I  low     disappointir.  id      Mary.       "He     is     so 

hasty." 

"Serves   them    right, '         lid    H  :i.      "I    like     his 

pluck;  and  you  make  take  my  word  for  it,  Mary,  that 
is  ..  e   of  music.      It   reminds  me 

the  Pacific  r 

"<  >;'  course  it  i  you  can  see  that,"   said 

Mary,  who  did  n   •  ee   it   '  If.      "It    is  mere 

professional   jealousy  that  :s   the   people  here- 

from ly,     They  are  all  musicians  of 

some  kind  or  another." 

"They  arc  going  to  give  US  '  D  minutes  law  before 
they  begin  again.  Let  us  take  a  walk  round,  and  find 
what  Nanny  thinks.  " 

Meanwhile  Aure*lie  wa  ilmost  in  tears. 

Mr.  Phipson  had  just  come  up  to  them,  shaking  his 
head  sadly.  "As  I  feared,"  he  said.  "As  I 
feared. 

"It  is  a  shame,"  she  said  indignantly,  "a  shame 
unworthy  of  the  English  people.  Of  what  use  is  it  to 
write  music  for  such  a  world?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  321 

"It  is  far  above  their  heads,"  said  Phipson.  "I 
told  him  so." 

"And  their  insolence  is  far  beneath  his  feet,"  said 
Aurelie.  "Oh,  it  is  a  scene  to  plunge  an  artist  in 
despair." 

"It  does  not  plunge  me  into  despair,"  said  Adrian, 
with  quiet  conviction.  "The  work  has  failed;  and  I 
venture  to  say  that  it  deserved  to  fail." 

"It  is  unworthy  of  you  to  say  so,"  exclaimed  Aurelie 
passionately,  throwing  herself  back  in  her  seat  and 
turning  away  from  him. 

"Deserved  is  perhaps  a  hard  word  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, Mr.  Herbert,"  said  Phipson.  "The  work 
is  a  very  remarkable  one,  and  far  beyond  the  com- 
prehension of  the  public.  Jack  has  been  much  too 
bold.  Even  our  audiences  will  not  listen  with 
patience  to  movements  of  such  length  and  complica- 
tion. I  greatly  regret  what  has  happened;  for  the 
people  who  are  attracted  by  our  concerts  are  repre- 
sentative of  the  highest  musical  culture  in  England. 
A  work  which  fails  here  from  its  abstruseness  has  not 
the  ghost  of  a  chance  of  success  elsewhere.  Ah! 
Here  is  Mary." 

Some  introductions  followed.  Hoskyn  shook 
Adrian's  hand  cordially,  and  made  a  low  bow  to 
Aurelie,  whom  he  stole  an  occasional  glance  at,  but 
did  not  at  first  venture  to  address.  Aurelie  looked  at 
Mary's  dress  with  wonder. 

"I  am  greatly  annoyed  by  the  way  Mr.  Jack  has 
been  treated, "  said  Mary.  "An  audience  of  working 
people  could  not  be  more  insensible  to  his  genius  than 
the  people  here  have  shewn  themselves  to-night." 

My  wife  is  quite  angry  with  me  because  I,   too, 


« « 


3 j j  Love  Among  the  Artists 

am  insensible  to  the  beauties  of  Mr.  Jack's  com- 
position," said  Herbert 

"Yon   always  were,"   said   Mary.      "Mr.    Hoskyn   is 

delighted  with  Prometheus." 

"Is  Mr.   Hoskyn  musical 

"M  >    than    you,     it    appears,     since    he    can 

appreciate  Mr.  Ja 

D   then   struck   in  on  th<  t  the  music; 

and  he,  Mary,  and  .'.        .n,  be  'Id  friends,  fell  into 

conv'  to  the  exclusion  of  the  husband 

and   wife   so  recently.  their  circle.      Hoskyn, 

under    these    circumstances,    felt    bound    to    entertain 

"I  ^ider    that    we    have    had    a     most     enjoyable 

evening,"  he  said.  "I  think  the-  in  be  no  doubt 
that  jack's  music  is  first  I  >f  its  kind." 

"Ah?      Monsieur    Jacqu*  music.       Y<>u     find    it 

In. " 

"Very  good  id  Hoskyn,  speaking  loudly, 

as    if    to    a    deaf  n.        "Jili  leed,"    hc 

a<"  hi  v. 

"You   are   right,  mi  ttrt"  -  Li  :rclie,  speaking 

rapidly  in   '  "But  it  seems  to  me  that  there  is 

something    l  rthy — infanr       .    in   the  icy  stupidity 

of  these   people  lie:  E   what  is  it  t 

rks  when  <«n<  I   held  in  contempt  because 

them?     It  is  ne  here  in  order 

to  have  BUO  the  ruin  of  England. 

It  rend  le  qui  tic." 

"JinipweevoocompT  -."      murmured      Hoskyn. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  added,  more  boldly,  "I  only  dropped 
a  French  word  to  help  you  out  a  little;  but  you 
mustn't  take  advantage  of  that  to  talk  to  me  out  of  my 


Love  Among  the  Artists  323 

native  language.      I  can    speak    French   pretty  well; 
but  I  never  could  understand  other  people  speaking 

it" 

"Ah,"  said  Aurelie,  who  listened  to  his  English 
with  strained  attention.  "You  understand  me  not 
very  goodh.  It  is  like  me  with  English.  But  in  this 
moment  I  make  much  progress.  I  have  lesson  every 
day  from  Monsieur  Herbert." 

"You  speak  very  well.  Vooparlaytraybyang — 
tootafaycumoononglays.  Jinisoray — I  mean  I  should 
not  know  from  your  speaking  that  you  were  a 
foreigner — oonay  tronzhare. ' ' 

"Vraiment?"  cried  Aurelie,  greatly  pleased. 

"Vraymong, "  said  Hoskyn,  nodding  emphatically. 

"It  is  sthrench.  There  is  only  a  few  months  since  I 
know  not  a  word  of  the  English." 

'You  see  you  knew  the  universal  language  before." 
Comment?     La  langue  universelle?" 
I  mean  music.     Music!"  he  repeated,  seeing  her 
still  bewildered. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Aurelie,  her  puzzled  expression 
vanishing.  "You  call  music  the  universal  language. 
It  is  true.     You  say  very  goodh." 

"It  must  be  easy  to  learn  anything  after  learning 
music.  Music  is  so  desperately  hard.  I  am  sure 
learning  it  must  make  people — spiritual,  you  know." 

"Yes,  yes.  You  observe  very  justly,  monsieur.  I 
am  quite  of  your  advice.     Understand  you?" 

"Parfatemong  byang, "  said  Hoskyn,  confidently. 

Here  Mary  interrupted  the  conversation  by  warn- 
ing her  husband  that  it  was  time  to  return  to  their 
places.     As  they  did  so,  she  said  : 

'You  must  excuse  me  for  abandoning  you  to  the 


a- 

1 1 


<(- 


32j  Love  Among  the  Artists 

*zymplica,  John.     I  bu]  you  could  not  say  a 

word  to  "ii  ■  another." 

l*Why  aot  be'a  a  very  nice  woman;  and  we  got 
on  together  B]  '.idly.  I  always  I  i  manage  to  hit  it 
off  with  foreigner  II  >wever,  it  wa  \y  enough  in 
her  case;    f<>r  she  could   apeak   bi  English  and 

didn't  understand  it,  whereas  I  could  speak  French 
but  couldn't  understand  the  \  talked  it — she's 

evidently  not  a   French?  Q.      So  she  spoke  to  me 

in  English;  I  am  1  her  in  French;  and  we  talked 

as  easily  as  I  talk  t<  I 

Meanwhile  Adrian  could  not  refrain  from  comment- 
in-'  <>n    Man'  "I   wonder  why  she  married 

it  man,"  he  said  to  Aureli       "lean:    I  that 

she  would  stoop  to  marry  for  money;  any  yet,  seeing 
what    he    is,    it    is    hard    to    believe    that    she    loves 
mi. 
"But   Why?"    said    Aurelie.       "He    is   a   little    com- 
mercial; but  all  the  Y.-  And  he  is  a  man 

of  int(  Ik  h         ry  choice  ideas. " 

11  You  think  s  >.    AunT. 

"Certainly.      He    fa  ken   very  well   to    me.      I 

B     arc  you  he  has  a  very  fine  pel  '    :.  of  music.      It 

is   difficult  to    understand    him,    because  he   does  not 

ench  as  well  as   I    apeak    English;  but  it  is 

dent  that  he  h  1  much.      As  for  her,  she  is 

fortunate  to  have  so  good  a  husband.  What  an 
absurd  dress  she  wear  In  any  other  part  of  the 
world  she  would  be  mocked  at  as  a  madwoman. 
Your  scientific  Mademoiselle  Sutherland  is,  in  my 
opinion,  no  great  things." 

Adrian   looked  at  his  wife  with  surprise,  and   with 
some    displeasure;  but    the   music   recommenced  just 


Love  Among  the  Artists  325 

then,  and  the  conversation  dropped.  Some  com- 
positions of  Mendelssohn  were  played;  and  these  he 
applauded  emphatically,  whilst  she  sat  silent  with 
averted  face.  When  the  concert  was  over  they  saw 
the  Hoskyns  drive  away  in  a  neat  carriage;  and 
Herbert,  who  had  never  in  his  bachelor  days  envied 
any  man  the  possession  of  such  a  luxury,  felt  sorry 
that  he  had  to  hire  a  hansom  for  his  wife's  accommo- 
dation. 

Adrian  had  not  yet  found  a  suitable  permanent 
residence.  They  lived  on  the  first  floor  of  a  house  in 
the  Kensington  Road.  Aurelie,  who  had  always  left 
domestic  matters  to  her  mother,  knew  little  about  house- 
keeping, and  could  not  be  induced  to  take  an  interest 
in  house-hunting.  The  landlady  at  Kensington  Road 
supplied  them  with  food;  and  Adrian  paid  a  heavy 
bill  every  week,  Aurelie  exclaiming  that  the  amount 
was  unheard  of,  and  the  woman  wicked,  but  not  taking 
any  steps  to  introduce  a  more  economical  system. 

They  reached  their  lodging  at  a  quarter  before 
twelve ;  and  Adrian,  when  Aurelie  had  gone  upstairs, 
turned  out  the  gas  and  chained  the  door,  knowing 
that  the  rest  of  the  household  were  in  bed.  As  he 
followed  her  up,  he  heard  the  pianoforte,  and,  entering 
the  room,  saw  her  seated  at  it.  She  did  not  look 
round  at  him,  but  continued  playing,  with  her  face 
turned  slightly  upward  and  to  one  side — an  attitude 
habitual  to  her  in  her  musical  moments.  He  moved 
uneasily  about  the  room  for  some  time ;  put  aside  his 
overcoat;  turned  down  a  jet  of  gas  that  flared;  and 
re-arranged  some  trifles  on  the  mantelpiece.  Then 
he  said: 

"Is  it  not  rather  late  for  the  pianoforte,  Aurelie? 


►6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

It  is  twelve  o'cl        :   and  the  people  of  the  house  must 
be  asleep." 

Aurelie  started  as  if  awakened;  shrugged  her 
shoulders;  closed  the  instrument  softly;  and  went  to 
an  easy  ehair,  in  which  she  sat  down  wearily. 

Herbert  was  dissatisfied  with  himself  for  interrupt- 
in--  her,  and  angry  with  her  tor  being  the  cause  of  hi 
dissatisfaction      Nevertheless,   looking    at    her  as  she 
reclined   in   the  ehair,  and   seemed   again  to  have  for- 
gotten his  ■  .  he  became  enamored. 

"My  darling!" 

11  Kh  ?"  she  said.wak-  'ii'est-ce,  que  e'est?" 

"It  has  turned  rather  cold  to-night  Is  it  wise  to  sit 
in  that  thin  d  when  there  is  no  : 

"I  do  not  know.'1 

"Shall  I  get  you  a  shawl'" 

"It  does  Dot  matter:    I  am  not  cold."      She  Bpoke 
if  his  solicitude  only  disturbed  h< 

"Auredie,'  he  said,  after  a  pause:  "I  heard  to-night 
that  my  mother  has  returned  to  town." 

No  answer. 

"Auredie,"  he  repeated  petulantly.  "Are  you 
listeninj        me?" 

"Yes.      I  listen."     But  lid  not  look  at  him. 

"I  said  that  my  mother  was  in  town.  I  think  we 
had  better  call  on  her.'* 

"Doubtless  you  will  call  on  her,  if  it  pleases  you  to 
do  so.      Is  she  not  your  mother-" 

"But  you  will  come  with  me,  Aurelie,  will  you  not"-" 

"Never.      Never." 

"Not  to  oblige  me.  Aurelie?" 

"It  is  not  the  same  thing  to  oblige  you  as  to  oblige 
your  mother.      I  am  not  married  to  your  mother." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  327 

Herbert  winced.  "That  is  a  very  harsh  speech  to 
English  ears,"  he  said. 

"I  do  not  speak  in  English:  I  speak  the  language  of 
my  heart.  Your  mother  has  insulted  me ;  and  you  are 
wrong  to  ask  me  to  go  to  her.  My  mother  has  never 
offended  you;  and  yet  I  sent  her  away  because  you 
did  not  like  her,  and  because  it  is  not  the  English 
custom  that  she  'should  continue  with  me.      I  know 

■ 

you  did  not  marry  her;  and  I  do  not  reproach  you 
with  harshness  because  she  is  separated  from  me.  I 
will  have  the  like  freedom  for  myself. ' ' 

"Aurelie,"  cried  Herbert,  who  had  been  staring 
during  most  of  her  speech:  "you  are  most  unjust. 
Have  I  ever  failed  in  courtesy  towards  your  mother? 
Did  I  ever  utter  a  word  expressive  of  dislike  to  her?" 

"You  were  towards  her  as  you  were  towards  all  the 
world.     You  were  very  kind:  I  do  not  say  otherwise." 

"In  what  way  can  my  mother  have  insulted  you? 
You  have  never  spoken  to  her;  and  since  a  month 
before  our  wedding  she  has  been  in  Scotland." 

"Where  she  went  lest  I  should  speak  to  her,  no 
doubt.  Why  did  she  not  speak  to  me  when  I  last  met 
her?  She  knew  well  that  I  was  betrothed  to  you. 
She  is  proud,  perhaps.  Well,  be  it  so.  I  also  am 
proud.  I  am  an  artist;  and  queens  have  given  me 
their  hands  frankly.  Your  mother  holds  that  an 
English  lady  is  above  all  queens.  I  hold  that  an 
artist  is  above  all  ladies.  We  can  live  without  one 
another,  as  we  have  done  hitherto.  I  do  not  seek  to 
hinder  you  from  going  to  her;  but  I  will  not  go." 

"You  mistake  my  mother's  motive  altogether.  She 
is  not  proud — in  that  way.  She  was  angry  because  I 
did  not  allow  her  to  choose  a  wife  for  me." 


328  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Well,  she  is  angry  still,  no  doubt.  Of  what  use  is 
it  to  anger  her  further?" 

"She   has  too  much  sense   to  persist  in   protesting 

ainst  what  is  irrevocable.  You  need  not  fear  a  cold 
welcome,  Am  I   will    make  sure,  before   I  allow 

you  to  go,  that  you  shall  be  properly  received." 

"I  pray  you,  Adrian,  annoy  me  no  more  about  your 
mother.  I  do  not  know  her:  I  will  not  know  her.  It 
is  her  own  choice;  and  she  must  abide  by  it.  Can  you 
not  go  to  her  without  me?" 

"Why  should  I  go  to  her  without  you"'  said  Adrian, 
distressed.  "V  ur  love  is  far  more  precious  to  me 
than  hei  You  know  how  little  tenderness  there  is 
between  her  and  me.  But  family  feuds  are  very 
objeeti<>nable.       They  always    in    bad   taste,    and 

often  lead  to  serious  consequence  I  wish  you  would 
for  this  onc<  See  your  personal  inclination,   and 

help  me  r       ert  a  permanent  estrangement. M 

"All    yes,"   exclaimed   An:  rising    indignantly. 

"You  will  sacrifice  my  honor  to  the  conventions  of 
your  world. " 

"It   is   an    1  n    to  speak  of  such  a  trifle  as 

affecting  your  honor.  However,  I  will  say  no  more.  I 
would  do  much  greater  things  for  you  than  this  that 
you  will  not  do  for  me,  Aurelie.  But  then  I  love 
you." 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  love  me,"  said  Aurelie, 
turning  towards  the  door  with  a  shrug.  "Go  and 
love  somebody  else.  Love  Madame  Iloskyn;  and  tell 
her  how  badly  your  wife  uses  yon." 

Herbert  made  a  step  after  her.  "Aurelie,"  he  said: 
"if  I  submit  to  this  treatment  from  you,  I  shall  be  the 
most  infatuated  slave  in  England." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  329 

"I  cannot  help  that.  And  I  do  not  like  you  when 
you  are  a  slave.     It  grows  late. ' ' 

"Are  you  going  to  bed  already?" 

"Already!  My  God,  it  is  half  an  hour  after  mid- 
night!    You  are  going  mad,  I  think." 

"I  think  I  am.  Aurelie:  tell  me  the  truth  honestly 
now :  I  cannot  bear  to  discover  it  by  the  slow  torture 
of  watching  you  grow  colder  to  me.  Do  you  no  longer 
love  me?" 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  indifferently.  "I  do  not  love 
you  to-night,  that  is  certain.  You  have  been  very 
tiresome."  And  she  left  the  room  without  looking  at 
him.  For  some  moments  after  her  departure  he 
remained  motionless.  Then  he  set  his  lips  together; 
went  to  a  bureau  and  took  some  money  from  it;  put 
on  his  hat  and  overcoat;  and  took  a  sheet  of  paper 
from  his  desk.  But  after  dipping  a  pen  in  the  ink 
several  times,  he  cast  it  aside  without  writing  any- 
thing. As  he  did  so,  he  saw  on  the  mantelpiece  a 
little  brooch  which  Aurelie  often  wore  at  her  throat. 
He  took  this  up,  and  was  about  to  put  it  into  his 
pocket,  when,  giving  way  to  a  sudden  impulse,  he 
dashed  it  violently  on  the  hearthstone.  He  then 
extinguished  the  light,  and  went  out.  When  he  had 
descended  one  stair,  he  heard  a  door  above  open,  and  a 
light  foot  fall  on  the  landing  above.  He  stopped  and 
held  his  breath. 

"Adrian,  my  dear,  art  thou  there?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"When  thou  comest,  bring  me  the  little  volume 
which  lies  on  the  piano.  It  is  red ;  and  my  handker- 
chief is  between  the  pages  for  a  mark." 

He  hesitated  a  moment.     Then,   saying,  "Yes,  my 


;o  Love   Among   the  Artists 

darling,"    me  he   stole    back  into  the  drawing- 

room;  undid   his   p  rations   for   Bight;  got  the    I 

:d   went  upstairs,  where   he   found  his  wife  in 
lied,   placidly  unconscious  of  his  recent  pr         lings, 

with  the  read  imp  casting  a  halo  on  her  pillow. 

It  was  A  rise  promptly  when  the 

servant    kn  I    at    his   door   at    eight   o'clock   every 

mornin,         A  the  contrary,    was    lazy,   and 

often  left  her  husband   (  I    by  himself.      <  >n 

the   mornio  ter  the  concert  he  rose  as   usual,  and 

much   :  ible   in  order  to  wake  her. 

succeeding,  h<  om  and, 

ir  a  g  and  rubbing,      turned  clad  in 

a  d  .    >wn. 

"A;  "      A   paus<        tring  which    her    regular 

Lthingwasau  Then,:  .-,  "AureT: 

Sh<  a   murmur.      II  ry    loudly 

ami  distil]  uty  mini  I  ht " 

She  m  and  utt-  .  Strang        rand, 

which  he  di        t  understand,  Ah. 

Then  she  .  in  French,  "Presently 

"A:  •  QCe,  if  y  "  he   said,  putting  his  hand 

on  her  shoulder.      "Must  I  shake  you?" 

"No,  no,"  she  keif  a  little  more. 

"Do  n"t  shake  me,  I  imp!  rOU.M      Then,  petulantly 

"I  will  not  he  shaken.  I  am  ;sroing  to  get  up.  Are 
there  any  1 

"I  have  not  nstairs  yet.  " 

"Go  and  see." 

"You  will  I  lot  l'  .in." 

"Yes,  yes.  I  shall  be  down  almost  as  soon  as  you. 
Bring  me  up  th<       tf    is,  if  there  are  any." 

lie    returned    to    his    dressing-room;    finished    his 


Love  Among  the  Artists  331 

toilet;  and  went  downstairs.  There  were  some 
letters.  He  looked  at  them,  and  went  back  to  Aurelie. 
She  was  fast  asleep. 

"Oh,  Anrelie !  Aurelie!  Really  it  is  too  bad.  You 
are  asleep  again. ' ' 

"How  you  disturb  me!"  she  said,  opening  her  eyes, 
and  sighing  impatiently.     "What  hour  is  it?" 

"You  may  well  ask.   It  is  twenty-five  minutes  to  nine." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"All!  Come,  Aurelie,  there  are  three  letters  for 
you.     Two  are  from  Vienna." 

Aurelie  sat  up,  awake  and  excited.  "Quick,"  she 
said.      "Give  them  to  me." 

"I  left  them  downstairs." 

"Oh,"  said  Aurelie,  disgusted.  Adrian  hurried  from 
the  room  lest  she  should  prevail  upon  him  to  bring  up 
the  letters.  He  occupied  himself  with  the  newspaper 
for  the  next  fifteen  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  she 
appeared  and  addressed  herself  to  her  correspondence, 
leaving  him  to  pour  out  tea  for  himself  and  for  her. 
Nothing  was  said  for  some  time.  Then  she  exclaimed 
with  emphasis,  as  though  in  contradiction  of  what  she 
read. 

But  it  is  certain  that  I  will  go. ' ' 
Go  where?"  said  Adrian,  turning  pale. 
To  Vienna — to  Prague — to  Budapesth,  my  beloved 
Budapesth." 

"To  Vienna!" 

"They  are  going  to  give  a  Schumann  concert  in 
Vienna.  They  want  me ;  and  they  shall  have  me.  I 
have  a  specialty  for  the  music  of  Schumann :  no  one  in 
the  world  can  play  it  as  I  can.  And  I  long  to  see 
my  Viennese  friends.     It  is  so  stupid  here." 


Hi 


33a  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"But,  Aurclie,  I  have  my  work  to  do.  I  cannot  go 
abroad  at  this  &         D  of  the  year." 

"It  is  not  necessary.  I  did  not  think  of  asking  you 
to  come.  No.  My  mother  will  accompany  me  every- 
where.     She  likes  our  old  mode  of  life." 

"You  mean,  in  short,  to  leave  me,"  he  said,  looking 
shocked. 

"My  poor  Adrian,"  she  said,  leaning  over  to  caress 
him:  "wilt  thou  be  desolate  without  me?  But  fret 
not  thyself:  I  will  return  with  much  money,  and  con- 
ic the  Music  is  my  destiny,  .is  painting  is  thine. 
We  shall  be  parted  but  a  little  time." 

Adrian  was  pained,  but  could  only  look  wistfully  at 
her  and  say,  "You  seem  to  enjoy  the  prospect  of  leav- 
ing me,  Aurclie." 

"I    am    tired    of   this   life.      I    am    forgotten    in     the 

world;  and  others  take  my  place." 

"And  will  you  be  happier  in  Vienna  than  here?" 
"Assuredly.     Ill    ■  whei  hould  I  desire  to  j 

When  I  read  in  the  ::als  of  all   the  music  in  which 

I  have  no  share,   I  almost  die  of   impatienc 

"And  I  sometimes,  when  I  am  working  alone  in  my 
studio,    all  of    impatience   to   return    to    your 

le.M 

"Bah!  That  is  another  reason  for  my  going.  It  is 
not  good  for  you  to  1         i  loving." 

"I  fear  that  it  too  true,  Auredie.  Rut  will  it 
be   good  for  you  to  hav<  one   near  you  who  loves 

you?M 

"Oh,  those  who  love  me  are  everywhere.  In  Vienna 
there  is  a  man — a  student — six  feet  high,  with  fair 
hair,  who  gets  a  friend  to  make  me  deplorable  verses 
which  he   pretends    are    his  own.      Heaven,   how    he 


Love  Among  the  Artists  333 

loves  me !  At  Leipzig  there  is  an  old  professor,  almost 
as  foolish  as  thou,  my  Adrian.  Ah,  yes:  I  shall  not 
want  for  lovers  anywhere. ' ' 

"Aurelie,  are  you  mad,  or  cruel,  or  merely  simple, 
that  you  say  these  things  to  me?" 

"Are  you  then  jealous?  Ha!  ha!  He  is  jealous  of 
my  fair-haired  student  and  of  my  old  professor.  But 
fear  nothing,  my  friend.  For  all  these  men  my 
mother  is  a  veritable  dragon.  They  fear  her  more 
than  they  fear  the  devil,  in  whom,  indeed,  they  do  not 
believe." 

"If  I  cannot  trust  you,  Aurelie,  I  cannot  trust  your 
mother. ' ' 

"You  say  well.  And  when  you  do  not  trust  me, 
you  shall  never  see  me  again.  I  was  only  mocking. 
But  I  must  start  the  day  after  to-morrow.  You  must 
come  with  me  to  Victoria,  and  see  that  my  luggage  is 
right.  I  shall  not  know  how  to  travel  without  my 
mother." 

"Until  you  are  in  her  hands,  I  will  not  lose  sight  of 
you,  my  dear  treasure,"  said  Adrian  tenderly.  "You 
will  write  often  to  me,  will  you  not,  Aurelie?" 

"I  cannot  write — you  know  it,  Adrian.  Mamma 
shall  write  to  you :  she  always  has  abundance  to  say. 
I  must  practise  hard;  and  I  cannot  sit  down  and 
cramp  my  fingers  with  a  pen.  I  will  write  occasionally 
— I  am  sure  to  want  something." 

Adrian  finished  his  breakfast  in  silence,  glancing  at 
her  now  and  again  with  a  mixture  of  rapture  and 
despair. 

"And  so,"  he  said,  when  the  meal  was  over,  "I  am  to 
lose  you,  Aurelie." 

Go,  go,"  she  replied:  "I  have  much  preparation  to 


<<i 


534  Love   Amon^  the  Artists 

make;  and  you  arc  in  my  way.      You  must  paint  hard 
in  r  studio  until  very  late  this  evening. " 

"I  tfc       ht  of  giving  myself  a  holiday,  and  staying 

at  home   with   you,    dearest,    as  we   are   so  soon   to   be 
separated.  " 

" Impossible,"  cried  Aurelie,  alarmed.     "My  God, 
what  a  pr  n!      Yon   must   stay  away  more   than 

ev<         I  ha  tise,  and  to  think  of  my  d        -s: 

I  must  .done"         Irian  took  up  his  hat 

lly.     "My  how  I  tear  thy  heart!" 

sh<  between   her  h. 

and   kissing  him.  lie    went  out    pained,    humiliat' 
and  ecstatically  h 

Ar.:a".ie   \v;r  ".    the    mornir  t   in   the 

afternoon  sh<  Schumann's  concerto  in  A  minor 

on  the  desk  of   the  piam  :   arrar. .  her  seat   be- 

fore   it;  m.       When    she    returned, 

she     had     char       I    her    d         .     and    was     habited     in 

k.  Lender  and  upright  figure  m< 

lly  her    imaginary    audience    than    si 

US1  ventuia   I  1  ;    and   when 

- 

she  had  tal  instrument,  she  pla 

th(  '  enough 

to    play    it    in    publi  had    finished    the 

door    was    thrown    open;     and    a    servant    announe* 
"Mrs.    He  ."      Aur-"         tarted  up  frowning,   and 

had   but   just    time    to    regain    her   thoughtful   cxpre 

id    nati  <n    of    manner    when     her 

mother-in-law  entered,  looking  as  in  a  well- 

bred  Englishwoman  can  without  making  herself  ridic- 
ulous. 

"1     fear    I    disturbed    you,"    she    said,    advancing 
gracious! 


Love  Among  the  Artists  335 

"Not  at  all.  I  am  very  honored,  madame.  Please 
to  sit  down. ' ' 

Mrs.  Herbert  had  intended  to  greet  her  son's  wife 
with  a  kiss.  But  Aurelie,  giving  her  hand  with 
dignified  courtesy,  was  not  approachable  enough  for 
that.  She  was  not  distant;  but  neither  was  she 
cordial.     Mrs.  Herbert  sat  down,  a  little  impressed. 

Is  it  a  long  time,  madame,  that  you  are  in  London?" 

I  only  arrived  the  day  before  yesterday,"  replied 
Mrs.  Herbert  in  French,  which,  like  Adrian,  she  spoke 
fluently.  "I  am  always  compelled  to  pass  the  winter 
in  Scotland,  because  of  my  health." 

"The  climate  of  Scotland,  then,  is  softer  than  that 
of  England.     Is  it  so?" 

"It  is  perhaps  not  softer;  but  it  suits  me  better," 
said  Mrs.  Herbert,  looking  hard  at  Aurelie,  who  was 
gazing  pensively  at  the  fireplace. 

;Your  health  is,  I  hope,  perfectly  re-established?" 

Perfectly,  thank  you.  Are  you  quite  sure  I  have 
not  interrupted  you?  I  heard  you  playing  as  I  came 
in ;  and  I  know  how  annoying  a  visit  is  when  it  inter- 
feres with  serious  employment." 

"I  am  very  content  to  be  entertained  by  you, 
madame,  instead  of  studying  solitarily." 

You  still  study?" 

Undoubtedly." 

You  are  very  fond  of  playing,  then? 

It  is  my  profession." 

Since  I  am  Adrian's  mother,"  said  Mrs.   Herbert 
with  some  emphasis,  as  if  she  thought  that  fact  was 
being  overlooked,   "will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a 
question?" 
Aurelie  bowed, 


it 


;6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

■*]         m  study  with  a  view  to  resuming  your  public 
it  some  fatui 

[  am  g  play  next  week  at  Vienna." 

Mrs.   II  it   her  head   in   surprised   assent  to 

this   in  tell  "I     *  ht    Adrian    contemplated 

it  retirement  inl  life,"  she  said.     "How- 

ever, let  me  hasten  to  add  that  I  think  you  have  shewn 

wisd<»m   in  overruling  him.      Will   he  accompany 

VOU  abroad?" 

"It  •    he   should.      I   shall  travel, 

usual,  with  my  mother.'1 
"Y<  >ur  moth'  well,  I  hope?" 

fnite  well,  thank  ' 

- 

Then   -  ip    in    the  conversation.      Mrs. 

I:                      It      that  she      w.                        treated     as    a 

disti:  .        '.led  Si  in  her              QOU&          ;t  she  v. 

un  was   the                       timidity   or 

th<  flie's  part 

Inclining  to  th<  i  make 
an  advanc 

how  your  friends 

USE 

my  usually   call   me 

M  idame   :         mplica " 

"I     c<>uld     not     call     y«.u     that,"     inl  >scd     Mrs. 

lb  •.    smilir  "I    could    not   pronounce   i: 

"I:    is    incorrect,   i  ."    continued    Aurclic. 

without  responding  to  th  I   ;  "but  it  is  customary 

,    the    name 
which  they  have  been  known.      I  intend  to  do  B         My 

En  ill  me  Mrs.  Herl  ert " 

"But  what  i  r  Christian  name'-" 

Aurc:.         But  that  is  only  used  by  my  husband 


Love  Among  the  Artists  337 

and  my  mother — and  by  a  few  others  who  are  dear 
to  me." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  with  some  impatience, 
4 'as  it  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to  address  yon  as 
Mrs.  Herbert,  I  must  really  ask  you  to  let  me  call  you 
Aurelie." 

"Whatever  is  customary,  madame,"  said  Aurelie, 
bending  her  head  submissively.  "You  know  far 
better  than  I." 

Mrs.  Herbert  watched  her  in  silence  after  this, 
wondering  whether  she  was  a  knave  or  fool — whether 
to  attack  or  encourage  her. 

"You  enjoyed  your  voyage  in  Scotland,  I  hope." 
said  Aurelie,  dutifully  making  conversation  for  her 
guest. 

"Very  much  indeed.  But  I  grew  a  little  tired  of  it, 
and  shall  probably  remain  in  London  now  until  August. 
When  may  I  expect  to  see  you  at  my  house?" 

"You  are  very  good,  madame:  I  am  very  sensible  of 
your  kindness.  But — "  Mrs.  Herbert  looked  up 
quickly — "I  set  out  immediately  for  Vienna,  whence 
I  go  to  Leipzig  and  many  other  cities.  I  shall  not  be 
at  my  own  disposal  again  for  a  long  time." 

Mrs.  Herbert  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  rose. 
Aurelie  rose  also. 

"Adieu,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert  sauvely,  offering  her 
hand. 

"Adieu,  madame,"  said  Aurelie,  saluting  her  with 
earnest  courtesy.  Then  Mrs.  Herbert  withdrew.  On 
reaching  the  street  she  hailed  a  hansom,  and  drove  to 
her  son's  studio  in  the  Fulham  Road.  She  found  him 
at  his  easel,  working  more  rapidly  and  less  attentively 
than  in  the  old  days, 


33  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"How  d'y<  ■/'  he  >it  down  on  the 

throne."     The  throne  was    a    chair  elevated    on   a 

itform  for  the  a  ition  of  live  i         Is.     "We 

should    ha  oe  to    sec  yon;    but   Aurelie  is  goi] 

abroad.  has  not  a  moment  to 

"No,  Adriai  ,  1    it  is  pn        ly  what  you  should  not 

have   done,   though  >U   might   have  done  it. 

It   was  my   duty  or  wife   first;  and   I 

ha  ly  just  r  house. " 

"Indeed?"  Ad  iau  and     a    little 

ly. 
I  saw  Aui 
"Well?    Wh  .       •  you  tir        •'  her?" 

"I    think   her    man:.    |  ::d   her   dress  and 

appearand  re  m. " 

"And  was  there —did  you  | 

"Your  w  tnd   1   am  a  lady. 

Und(  i  h    cir<  I  r  •  >m   I 

Unj  -  ntne  :id.       It  ■    underst< 

though  Qt  myself  at 

ur  h<  a,  and  1  hat  ;  .ts 

•it  he-  '  liming  my  visit. " 

"  A.  An   ■.■  •■ 

in.     I  h.;'.  isk 

you    whethei  ur     wii  carries    out    your 

wishes,    or    whether    she    pr-  r   herself    not    to 

eultiv.  laintanccs  in   -      ir  family 

haw!      You   must  have  taken   Borne  imaginary 
offence. " 

"Is  that  the  most  direct  and  sensible  answer  you 
can  think 

"There  is  no  lack  of  sense  in  the  supposition  that 
Aurelie,  being  a  foreigner,  may  not  understand  the 


Love  Among  the  Artists  339 

English  etiquette  for  the  occasion.  You  may  have 
mistaken  her.     Even  you  are  fallible,  mother." 

"I  have  already  told  you  that  your  wife's  manners 
are  perfect.  If  you  assume  that  my  judgment  is  not 
to  be  relied  on,  there  is  no  use  in  our  talking  to  one 
another  at  all.  What  I  wish  to  know  is  this.  Admit- 
ting, for  the  sake  of  avoiding  argument,  that  I  am 
right  in  my  view  of  the  matter,  did  your  wife  behave 
as  she  did  by  your  orders,  or  of  her  own  free  will?" 

"Most  certainly  not  by  my  orders,"  said  Adrian, 
angrily.  "I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  her  orders. 
If  I  were,  they  should  not  be  of  that  nature.  If 
Aurelie  treated  you  with  politeness,  I  do  not  see  what 
more  you  had  any  right  to  expect.  She  admired  you 
greatly  when  she  first  saw  you;  but  I  know  she  was 
hurt  by  your  avoidance  of  her  after  our  engagement 
became  known,  even  when  you  were  in  the  same 
room  with  her. ' ' 

"She  has  not  the  least  right  to  feel  aggrieved  on 
that  account.  It  was  your  business  to  have  introduced 
her  to  me  as  the  lady  you  intended  to  marry." 

"I  did  not  feel  encouraged  to  do  so  by  what  had 
passed  between  us  on  the  subject,"  said  Adrian, 
coldly. 

"Well  we  need  not  go  over  that  again.  I  merely 
wish  to  ask  you  whether  you  expect  me  to  make  any 
further  concessions.  You  have  lately  acquired  a 
habit  of  accusing  me  of  various  shortcomings  in  my 
duty  to  you;  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  impute  any 
estrangement  between  your  wife  and  me  to  my 
neglect.  I  have  called  on  her;  and  she  did  not  ask  me 
to  call  again.  I  endeavored  to  treat  her  as  one  of  my 
family:    she   politely    insisted    on    the   most    distant 


;o  Love   Among   the  Artists 

lintanceship.      I  asked  her  to  call  on  mc;  and  she 

I  hav     I  ne  m<  ►re?" 
"I  think  yon  n.  in  the  fust  instance." 

1  *  Can  1 

"YOU    can    answer   that    youn  '    v  than  I  can." 

*I   :'■  no  nnable  to  give  me  a 

ward   or   civil    an  However,     if    yon 

have  nothin                     t,  '  I   it  be  und<  r  I   od 

in  future   that    I  was   :     •  -ir 

wii                             le   the    U  :   and  that  th< 

me  t  her                    I    through 
mine. " 

ell,   tl  hi''          •    •  bink  the  point  will 

excite  much  infc  I  the  v 

in.      I   think   T   will  go  now.     I 

h<           >u  tr  a  iv.  ■     manly  and  con- 

•  thai.  me  of  late.  " 

And  I  a 
int<  But  ;.•'  ''i  - 

fashion  which  |  i  my  con- 

at  wish  •  u.     I  am 

i 
ml.]  '   think  she  was  long  enough 

mai  Perhaps, 

yOU    best 

holdii  m  me. 

in.     The  •  just 

contrai        She   ki  that    I   hav  rror  o£ 

■menu  in  famil 
"  i  ndy  very  hard  to  please  you." 

Adrian  r-  lent. 

"An  .'  infattJ        I  as  you  were 

last  y 


Love  Among  the  Artists  341 


<  <- 


;Yes, "  said  Adrian  defiantly,  with  his  cheeks  burn- 
ing. "I  love  her  more  than  ever.  I  am  longing  to  be 
at  home  with  her  at  this  moment.  When  she  eoes 
away,  I  shall  be  miserable.  Of  all  the  lies  invented 
by  people  who  never  felt  love,  the  lie  of  marriage 
extinguishing  love  is  the  falsest,  as  it  is  the  most 
worldly  and  cynical. ' ' 

Mrs.  Herbert  looked  at  him  in  surprise  and  doubt. 
"You  are  an  extraordinary  boy,"  she  said.  "Why 
then  do  you  not  go  with  her  to  the  Continent?" 

"She  does  not  wish  me  to,"  said  Herbert  shortly, 
averting  his  face,  and  pretending  to  resume  his  work. 

"Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Herbert.  "And  you  will  not 
cross  her,  even  in  that?" 

"She  is  quite  right  to  wish  me  to  stay  here.  I 
should  only  be  wasting  time ;  and  I  should  be  out  of 
place  at  a  string  of  concerts.  I  will  stay  behind — if  I 
can." 

"If  you  can?" 

"Yes,  mother,  if  I  can.  But  I  believe  I  shall  rejoin 
her  before  she  is  absent  a  week.  I  may  have  been  an 
indifferent  son ;  and  I  know  I  am  a  bad  husband ;  but 
I  am  the  most  infatuated  lover  in  the  world." 

"Yet  you  say  you  are  a  bad  husband!" 

"Not  to  her.     But  I  fall  short  in  my  duty  to  myself. " 

Mrs.  Herbert  laughed.  "Do  not  let  that  trouble 
you,"  she  said.  "Time  will  cure  you  of  that  fault,  if 
it  exists  anywhere  but  in  your  imagination.  I  never 
knew  a  man  who  failed  in  taking  care  of  himself. 
Goodbye,  Adrian." 

"Goodbye,  mother." 

"What  an  ass  I  am  to  speak  of  my  feelings  to  her!" 
he  said  to  himself,  when  she  was  gone.     "Well,  well: 


34-  Love  Among  the  Artists 

at  Least  if  she   does  not    understand  them,  she 

not   pretend   to  do  No,   she   has   not   sympathy 

enough    for    that.      She    did    not    even   ask    to   see    my 
pictures.      That  would  have  hurt  me  00  At  present 

I  have  exch         1  the  burden  of  disliking  my  mother 
the  heavier  one  of  loving  my  wife        He  sighed, 

and  resumed  his  work  in  spite  of  the  fading  li^rht. 


CHAPTER    II 

One  moonlit  night,  in  an  empty  street  in  Paris,  a 
door  suddenly  opened;  and  three  persons  were  thrust 
violently  out  with  much  scuffling  and  cursing.  One 
of  them  was  a  woman,  elegantly  dressed,  but  flushed 
with  drink  and  excitement.  The  others  were  a  loose- 
jointed,  large-boned,  fair  young  Englishman  of  about 
eighteen  or  twenty,  and  a  slim  Frenchman  with 
pointed  black  moustaches  and  a  vicious  expression. 
The  Englishman,  like  the  woman,  was  heated  and 
intoxicated:  his  companion  was  angry,  but  had  not 
lost  his  self-control.  The  moment  they  passed  the 
threshold,  the  door  was  slammed;  and  the  younger 
man,  without  heeding  the  torrent  of  foul  utterance  to 
which  the  woman  promptly  betook  herself,  began 
kicking  the  panels  furiously. 

"Bah!"  said  the  woman,  recovering  herself  with  a 
shrill  laugh.  "Come,  Anatole."  And  she  drew  away 
her  compatriot,  who  was  watching  the  door-kicking 
process  derisively. 

"Hallo!"  shouted  the  Englishman,  hurrying  after 
them.  "Hallo,  you!  This  lady  stays  with  me,  if  you 
please.  I  should  think  that  she  has  had  about  enough 
of  you,  you  damned  blackleg,  since  she  has  been 
pitched  out  of  a  gambling  hell  on  your  account.  You 
had  better  clear  out  unless  you  want  your  neck 
broken — and  if  you  were  anything  like  a  fair  match  for 
me,  I'd  break  it  as  soon  as  look  at  you. " 

343 


344  Love  Anions  the  Artists 

"What  does  he  Bay,  N        "  whispered  the  French- 
man, ke<  his  i  other  as  it  he  guessed  his 


meaning. 


The  w<  .  with  an  insolent  snap  of  her  fingers, 
ma  .  perfunctory  translation  of  as  much  of  the 
Englishman'  und<         *L 

"i  you,    little    one,        aid    the    Frenchman, 

advancing  to  within  a  certain  his;.  .try, 

"the  night   air   IS  not  r  you.      I  WOUld   counsel 

•u  to  gohom<  I  put  yourself  I  '.  I  t  I  should 
have  to  givi        or  qui        ie  tr  w  i  >u 

thither." 
"You  advise  m  1?    I'll  '         -u 

it   that,"   r  the   ]  man, 

himself  clumsily  in  I 
and  «I  his  ttt,      An 

instantly  the   nose   whi 

made  him  r.  The 

that    he  r.  mouth.     T1 

moment  he  thus  m  the  Frenchman 

turned  swift'  -sary 

his  shoulder,  '  toe  with  th< 

Og    man's 

imach,  flic  *h- 
s,  an  ".  all  I  til  ii 

"Ha!"  said  .             ,  pant  louble  feat. 

"Prrrr\                 much  for  thy  I                         N  ita." 

14  9Cr<  thou     art,    Anatole. 
■ 

A   minute   la!  '-  was  again  as  quiet,  and, 

except    for   the    l  the   roadway,    as 

ttly  a  vehicle  entered   from 
•    et.     It  was  a  close  carriage  like  an  English 


Love  Among  the  Artists  345 

brougham,  and  contained  one  passenger,  a  lady  with  a 
white  woollen  shawl  wrapped  about  her  head,  and  an 
opera  cloak  over  her  rich  dress.  She  was  leaning 
back  in  a  deep  reverie  when  the  horse  stopped  so  sud- 
denly that  she  was  thrown  forward;  and  the  coach- 
man uttered  a  warning  cry.  Recovering  herself,  she 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and,  saw,  with  a  sickening 
sensation,  a  man  stagger  out  on  his  hands  and  knees 
from  between  the  horse's  feet,  and  then  roll  over  on 
his  back  with  a  long  groaning  sigh. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  hastily  opening  the 
carriage  door,  and  alighting.  "Bring  me  one  of  the 
lamps.  It  is  a  young  gentleman.  Pray  God  he  be  not 
dead." 

The  coachman  reluctantly  descended  from  his 
box,  and  approached  with  a  lamp.  The  lady  looked 
at  him  impatiently,  expecting  him  to  lift  the  insensible 
stranger;  but  he  only  looked  down  dubiously  at  him, 
and  kept  aloof. 

"Can  you  not  rouse  him,  or  help  him  to  stand  up?" 
she  said  indignantly. 

"I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  that,"  said  the  man. 
"Better  not  meddle  with  him.  It  is  an  affair  for  the 
police." 

The  lady  pouted  scornfully  and  stooped  over  the 
sufferer,  who  lifted  his  eyes  feebly.  Seeing  her  face, 
he  opened  his  eyes  widely  and  quickly,  looking  up  at 
her  with  wonder,  and  raising  his  hand  appealingly. 
She  caught  it  without  hesitation,  and  said  anxiously: 

"You  are  better  now,  monsieur,  are  you  not?  I 
hope  you  are  not  seriously  hurt." 

"Wha's  matter?"  said  the  young  man  indistinctly. 
'Are  you  hurt?"  she  repeated  in  English. 


i  < 


;,  :  Love  Among  the  Artists 

:•'    at    all,"    he    replied,    with    drunken    joviality. 

Then  he  attempted  to  laugh,  but  immediately  winced, 

and  aft<  •  red   t<>  his  The 

ichman  1;  but  the  lady  did  not  mow 

UV  "  he  continued,  lo  round.    "Yah! 

>u'll  kick,  will  you?    Coi  '.  1.         me 

nd  shew  yourself.      Yah  !    K  :ul  then  run  I 

and  hide!    ['11a  kick:  I    >fyoU.    Will  you  face 

with  your  lists  I         .  man         He  uttered  the  last 

with  a  n  of  fury,  and  menaced 

the        chman,  who  ret  truck  at 

him,  but  the  bl  nothing,  swung  tl 

•    and   until   he  was   fa       '  th  the  lady,  whom 

nt. 

"I  ir'n, "  h'  ling  into  humble- 

nc-         "I  really  '                         *n.  Tl           How  g          me 

and    I  fa            know   where  I 
Ton   m         >ul,"  I 

t's  the                             thing.  '•'. 

"Of  -id      the     lady     in 
h. 

>f — je   pari      d'  ffi    |  □   qui   m'a  donne  un 

afTreux  COUp  de          I   under  the  J'ai  un  grand 

he  n. 

"Unhappily,  my  horse  that  hurt 

y«>u.      I  am  ir  r " 

.  n  >.    I  tell  you  it  was  a  f<         named  Annatoal, 

ird  slur  If  I  b  him  again,  I'll  teach 

him   th'  ish  vi  I'll   kick   him 

her.  "     As  :.  ke  he 

reeled  nst  t:.  nd,  as  tl  rse  stirp 

uneasily,    clutched   at   the   door   t<<   save   himself   from 
fall  in. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  347 

"  Madame, "  said  the  coachman,  who  had  been  look- 
ing anxiously  for  the  approach  of  the  police:  "do  you 
not  see  that  this  is  a  sot?  Better  leave  him  to 
himself. ' ' 

"I  am  not  drunk,"  said  the  young  man  earnestly  "I 
have  been  drinking;  but  upon  my  solemn  word  I  am 
not  drunk.  I  have  been  attacked  and  knocked  about 
the  head;  and  I  feel  very  queer.  I  can't  remember 
how  you  came  here  exactly,  though  I  remember  your 
picking  me  up.     I  hope  you  won't  leave  me." 

The  lady,  moved  by  his  boyish  appearance  and  the 
ingenious  faith  with  which  he  made  this  appeal,  was 
much  perplexed,  pitying,  but  not  knowing  what  to  do 
with  him.  "Where  do  you  live?"  she  said.  "I  will 
drive  you  home  with  pleasure." 

He  became  very  red.  "Thanks  awfully,"  he  said; 
"but  the  fact  is,  I  don't  live  anywhere  in  particular. 
I  must  go  to  some  hotel.  You  are  very  kind;  but  I 
won't  trouble  you  any  further.  I  am  all  right  now." 
But  he  was  evidently  not  all  right ;  for  after  standing 
a  moment  away  from  the  carriage,  shamefacedly 
waiting  for  the  lady  to  reply,  he  sat  down  hastily  on 
the  kerbstone,  and  added,  after  panting  a  little,  "You 
must  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Herbert.  I  can't  stand  very 
well  yet.  You  had  better  leave  me  here:  I  shall  pick 
myself  up  presently." 

"  Tiens,  tiens,  tiens !  You  seem  to  know  me, 
monsieur.  I,  too,  recollect  your  face,  but  not  your 
name. ' ' 

"Everybody  knows  you.  You  may  have  seen  me  at 
Mrs.  Phipson's,  in  London.  I've  been  there  when  you 
were  there.  But  really  you'd  better  drive  on.  This 
house  is  a  gambling  den ;  and  the  people  may  come 


Love  Anion-  the  Artists 

it  at  any  minnt        Don't  let  your  carriage  be  seen 
pping  h< 

"But  I  hardly  like  to  leave  you  h  indhurt." 

".".      tr  mind  me  me  right.     Besides,  I'd 

rather  you'd  I  uld  i: 

irriage ;  put  her 
II-  wist- 

ful an !"  sh  d, 

ret  you 

in  such  a  don:  it  is  th<  I  will 

bri  you  shall  bt  until  you 

" 
"11  murmured,   rising 

which  he  held  \\  t  in.     H(  .ml 

w  seat, 

when  tl  ag   his    whip, 

t  him  inl    •  ant  spa 

t    A::  n,  and 

It   upi  Then,    sink:  ack 

■  I   until   it 
touched  h< 

II         is  rou  which  m  head 

An  i   held   him   by  one 

cun  im    for    a 

besot  him  out  by  the  other. 

He    !  d   up   and 

yard.      In  spite 
that  he  could  walk  alone  they  pull< 
him  n.     He  stru  him- 

lf;  but  tin  »r  him :  he  wi 

hauled  "y  into  a  d(        t  room,  where  a  sofa 


Love  Among  the  Artists  349 

had  been  prepared  for  him  with  a  couple  of  rugs  and 
a  woman's  shawl.  Here  he  was  forced  to  lie  down, 
and  bidden  to  be  quiet  until  the  doctor  came.  The 
coachman,  with  a  parting-  curse,  then  withdrew;  and 
his  voice,  deferentially  pitched,  was  audible  as  he 
reported  what  he  had  done  to  the  lady  without. 
There  was  another  person  speaking  also;  but  she 
spoke  in  a  tone  of  vehement  remonstrance,  and  in  a 
strange  language. 

"Look  here,  ma'am,"  said  the  young  man  from  the 
sofa.  "You  needn't  trouble  sending  for  a  doctor. 
There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

"Silence,  great  sot,"  chattered  the  old  woman.  "I 
have  other  things  to  do  than  to  listen  to  thy  gib- 
berish.    Lay  thyself  down  this  instant." 

"Will  I,  by  Jove!"  he  said,  kicking  off  the  rug  and 
sitting  up.  "Can  you  buy  soda  water  anywhere  at 
this  hour?" 

"Ah,  ingrate!  Is  it  thus  that  thou  obeyest  the 
noble  lady  who  succored  thee.     Fie!" 

"What  is  the  matter,  madame,"  said  Aurelie, 
entering. 

"I  was  only  asking  her  not  to  send  for  a  doctor.  I 
have  no  bones  broken ;  and  a  doctor  is  no  use.  Please 
don't  fetch  one.  If  I  could  have  a  little  plain  water — 
or  even  soda  water — to  drink,  I  should  be  all  right." 
Whilst  he  was  speaking,  an  old  lady  appeared  behind 
Aurelie.  She  seemed  to  suffer  from  a  severe  cold; 
for  she  had  tied  up  her  face  in  a  red  handkerchief, 
which  gave  her  a  grim  aspect  as  she  looked  resentfully 
at  him. 

"I  shall  bring  you  some  drink,"  said  Aurelie  quietly. 

Mamma."  she  added,  turning  to  the    older  lady; 


i  i 


o  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"pray  return  to  your  ur  face  will  be  swollen 

ain  if  you  stand  in  the  ;t.     I  have  but  to  get 

this  young  gentleman  what  he  asks  for.." 

14 The  young  gent  n   has  no   bu  3  here,"  said 

the  1. uly.     "You  are  imprudent,  AureTie,  and  fright- 
fully   self  -  willed. "       She     then  d.       The 

I  and    attempted  tO  rise;    but  Aurel: 
blush  ■  •  :n  by  tUTe,  whilst  the  old 

•nan    sh  |    him.      A:;:<";e    then  left    the 

•urn,  and.  I  ne  with 

the  woman,  wc  rtunityt         ommence 

her    •  ich    v.  |  able    to   be    intel- 

ligible to  the  r  •    ;lish  i  M  t. 

"You  may   just  a  11   hoi  Dgue,"  he  said, 

1  at  last  :  n't  under- 

you 
" Say  th<  n,  coquin,  a,    "what 

welt     thou  in     th  when    th< 

•     ■ 
*'  je*  n  inoui.  " 

"How?     Ah,    I     understa  But    why?     What 

■ 

•  .'  nablepour  ur.         me 
That  ought 

tO  fet    h  ;.'  >U,   ::   v  "•       M                  I  aid  it.  " 

"Ah,  thou  mo  t   thou,  pr           ite, 

that   thou    art   in  my                      \         1   that  I   have  the 

right  t<>  tlii'  h  the        r  if  I  please. 

"Votre     diseours    se     fait  '    .    ma    mere. 

la  bonte*  d         at  u j 
"What  d  j  the  woman,  checked 

unknown  verb. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  351 


<*, 


id 


'Oh,  you  are  talking  too  much,'  said  Aurelie, 
returning  with  some  soda  water.  "You  must  not 
encourage  him  to  speak,  madame." 

"He  needs  little  encouragement,"  said  the  old 
woman.  "You  are  far  too  good  for  him,  made- 
moiselle." 

How  do  you  feel  now,  monsieur?     Better,  I  hope." 
Thanks  very  much:  I    feel  quite  happy.     I  have 

something  to  shew  you.     Just  wait  a "     Here  he 

twisted  himself  round  upon  his  elbow,  and  after  some 
struggling  with  the  rug  and  his  coat,  pulled  from  his 
breast  pocket  some  old  letters,  which  presently  slipped 
from  his  hand  and  were  scattered  on  the  floor. 

"Sot,"  cried  the  old  woman,  darting  at  them,  and 
angrily  pushing  back  the  hand  with  which  he  was 
groping  for  them.  "Here — put  them  up  again. 
What  has  madame  to  do  with  thy  letters,  thinkst  thou?" 

"Don't  you  be  in  a  hurry,  Mrs.  Jones,"  he  retorted 
confidently,  beginning  to  fumble  at  the  letters.  ' '  Where 
the — I'll  take  my  oath  I  had  it  this  mor — oh,  here  it 
is.  Did  you  ever  see  him  before?"  he  asked  trium- 
phantly, handing  a  photograph  to  Aurelie. 

"Tiens/  it  is  Adrian,"  she  exclaimed.  "My  hus- 
band," she  added,  to  the  old  woman,  who  received  the 
explanation  sardonically.  "Are  you  then  a  friend  of 
Monsieur  Herbert?" 

"I  have  known  him  since  I  was  a  boy, "  said  the 
youth.  Aurelie  smiled :  she  thought  him  a  boy  still. 
"But  this  was  only  taken  last  week,"  she  said.  "I 
have  only  just  received  a  copy  for  myself.  Did  he 
send  it  to  you?" 

"My  sister  sent  it  to  me.  I  suppose  you  know  who 
I  am  now." 


2  Love  Among  the  Artists 


•  i 


Xo,  truly,  monsieur.  I  have  seen  you  certainly; 
but  I  cannot  recall  your  name. " 

"You've  seen  me  at  Phipson's,  talking  to  Mr.  Jack. 
Can't  you  . 

Aurc'.ie  shook  her  head.  The  old  woman,  curious, 
but  unable  to  follow  a  conversation  carried  on  by  one 
party  in  F  Qch  and  by  the  other  in  English,  muttered 
imj  "What  gibberish!     It  is  a  honor." 

The    youth    looked   shyly   at   Aure".  Then,    as  if 

struck  by  a  new  thought,  he  said,  "My  name  is — 
Beatty." 

Aur61ie  bowed.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  have  assuredly 
heard  my  husband  speak  of  that  name.  I  am  greatly 
tr-  1  to  think    that  your    n.  Id   have 

been  V-  ......        ..       ^.        Madame:    Mon- 

UT  1-'  will  Will  you  do  me  the 

kin  c   from  my  room'" 

M  :       ar  Beatty  1  it  that  he    would 

rem..  but   he  was  checked  by  a 

gesture    from    the   woman,    wl  Qtly    pointed    to   a 

pillow  which  v.  on  a  chair. 

"Ah,  tru<        T  u,"  I  !e.      "Now,  let 

me  s<  Ves,  he   had   better   ha        Day   littl-  g,  in 

lie  Bhould  becoi  in  th«         ht,  and  need 

to    summon     fa  It     is     on    my  table,    I 

believe. 
The  -  Id  woman    lo  hard    at    Aurelie    for    a 

moment,  and  withdrew  slowly. 

"Now    that    that     lady    is    gone,"       id    the    patient, 

blushing,  "I  want  to  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  for 
the  way  you  have  helped  m<  If  you  knew  what  I 
felt  when  I  opened  my  ey  I  lay  th'  □  the  stones, 

and  saw  your  face  looking  down  at  me,  you  would  feel 


Love  Among  the  Artists  353 

sure,  without  being  told,  that  I  am  ready  to  do  any- 
thing to  prove  my  gratitude.  I  wish  I  could  die  for 
you.  Not  that  that  would  be  much;  for  my  life  is 
not  worth  a  straw  to  me  or  anyone  else.  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  tired  of  it." 

"Young  enough  to  be  tired  of  it,  you  mean,"  said 
Aurelie,  laughing,  but  pleased  by  his  earnestness. 
"Well,  I  do  not  doubt  that  you  are  very  grateful. 
How  did  you  come  under  my  carriage?  Were  you 
really  knocked  down;  or  did  you  only  dream  it?" 

"I  was  really  knocked  down.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
it  came  about.  It  served  me  right;  for  I  was  where 
I  had  no  business  to  be — in  bad  company. ' ' 

"Ah,"  said  Aurelie  gravely,  approaching  him  with 
the  pillow.  "You  must  not  do  so  any  more,  if  we  are 
to  remain  friends." 

"I  will  never  do  so  again,  so  help  me  God!"  he  pro- 
tested. "You  have  cured  me  of  all  taste  for  that  sort 
of  thing. ' ' 

"Raise  yourself  for  one  moment — so,"  said  Aurelie, 
stooping  over  him  and  placing  the  pillow  beneath  his 
head.  His  color  rose  as  he  looked  up  at  her.  Then, 
as  she  was  in  the  act  of  withdrawing,  he  uttered,  a 
stifled  exclamation;  threw  his  arm  about  her;  and 
pressing  his  lips  to  her  cheek,  was  about  to  kiss  her, 
when  he  fell  back  with  a  sharp  groan,  and  lay  bathed 
in  perspiration,  and  flinching  from  the  pain  of  his 
wounded  face.  Aurelie,  astonished  and  outraged, 
stood  erect  and  regarded  him  indignantly. 

"Ah,"  she  said.  "That  was  an  unworthy  act 
You,  whom  I  have  succored — my  husband's  friend! 
My  God,  is  it  possible  that  an  English  gentleman  can 
be  so  base ! ' ' 


354  Love  Among   the   Artists 


lC  ir  e  the  fellow!  the  young  man,  writhing 

and  si                             pain.     "■  mething  to 

•  »p    this    ag<  ny                  hloi  -         mel  hing. 

I  shall  go  mad.  »h,  Lord !" 

"  v                   it  well, '  '"Come,  mon- 

yourself.     Tl  :b- 

and   only    f  li    at 

in:  in,  who 

en   w.  ;   for  she   came 
at 

"He  has  hurt  I  lie  in  an  unci- 
tone.     "What  can  v               'him?" 

The   woman  shra  thing 

Bug                      t   him    •                    best  of  it,"  she  Baid 
"  I  can  do                for  hin 

Th  the  and  f  '    him    t  me 

ed  hi  .ml  began 

"Would  drink  something?"  Aure! 

uYes.M 

him  iter,"     he  said  to  the  old 


Never  t  he  sa  ting   indistinctly  in   his 

elTort   to  a\  rring  r   lip.      "I  don't  want 

/thin  of    my   nose    i  htfully 

but  the  pain  is  goin^-  ofT. 

"It  is  1  .   and   I  must  retire,  monsieur. 

Can  w  furth<  unfort?" 

Nothing,   thank         .."      Aur£lie    turned    to    go. 

"Mrs,    Herbert.'  ised.     "I  sup]  one 

could   behave    w  I      ave.       Never   mind    my 

iking  before  the  old  lady:  she  doesn't  understand 


Love  Among  the  Artists  355 

me.  I  wish  you  would  forgive  me.  I  have  been 
severely  punished.  You  cannot  even  imagine  the 
torture  I  have  undergone  in  the  last  ten  minutes." 

"If  you  regret  your  conduct  as  you  ought,"  began 
Aurelie  severely. 

"I  am  ashamed  of  it  and  of  myself;  and  I  will  try 
hard  to  be  sorry — in  fact,  I  am  very  sorry  I  was  dis- 
appointed. I  should  be  more  than  mortal  if  I  felt 
otherwise.     But  I  will  never  do  such  a  thing  again." 

"Adieu,  monsieur,"  said  Aurelie  coldly.  "I  shall 
not  see  you  again,  as  you  will  be  gone  before  I  am 
abroad  to-morrow."  And  she  left  the  room  with  a 
gravity  that  quelled  him. 

"What  hast  thou  been  doing  now,  rogue?"  said  the 
old  woman,  preparing  to  follow  Aurelie.  "What  is  it 
thou  shouldst  regret? " 

By  way  of  reply,  he  leered  at  her,  and  stretched  out 
his  arms  invitingly. 

"Thou  shalt  go  out  from  my  house  to-morrow,"  she 
said  threateningly;  and  went  out,  taking  the  lamp 
with  her.  He  laughed,  and  composed  himself  for  sleep. 
But  he  was  thirsty  and  restless,  and  his  face  began 
to  pain  him  continuously.  The  moon  was  still  shining; 
and  by  its  light  he  rose  and  prowled  about  softly  in 
his  stockings,  prying  into  drawers  and  chiffoniers,  and 
bringing  portable  objects  to  the  window,  where  he 
could  see  them  better.  When  he  had  examined  every- 
thing, he  sparred  at  the  mantelpiece,  and  imagined 
himself  taking  vengeance  on  Anatole.  At  last,  having 
finished  the  soda  water,  he  lay  down  again,  and  slept 
uneasily  until  six  o'clock,  when  he  rose  and  looked  at 
himself  in  a  mirror.  His  hair  was  dishevelled  and 
dusty;  his  lip  discolored;  his  eyes  were  inflamed;  but 


I  -<>ve   A'         ,r   the  Artists 
the  thought  of  rr."  soiled  face  with  a  towel,  or 

t  with  v.        .  made  him  win        Seeing 
that  he  r  enough  to 

ji!  f  his  last  '.net,  he  •       Lved  to  make 

off  before  any  of  the  household  were  astir.  A  lord- 
ingly,  he  made  himself  as  clean  as  he  could  without 
hurl      .  him  pockets,  which  c 

n     franc  .    English    halfcrown,    a 

latch!  turn  ticket  to  Charing 

Ci      ;,  he  •         •   n  frai  left  them  on  the  table 

with   a  s<  'Pour  la  belle  pr 

pr  tome  Al  ."     Then, 

aft  mother    strap, 

which  h<  IS  folio? 

"I  1  me  for  behaving  like  an 

unmil  ht.            [was  w  <i         r  and 

had  had  n  ked  out  of  me          foul 

>w,  I   was  h                                    r  what.  I  was  doin 

I  i  an  nor  expiate   my 

wd  in  not    say    anything 

Mr.     I  I  lid   get  me  into 

I  am  running  away 

:iy  b  hould  to  1  I    in  the 

face  now  that  I  have  I  my  sense 

"Y     •  -  :  .tc  fully " 

He  d  minutes  to  C01  he  should 

n  this  not         K  illy  I  it  the   initial  C  only. 

r  draining  the  few  flat 

and  sickly  he  had  left  in  it  the  night  bei  he 

•die   r<>om    and  .    where    he    suc- 

i  '   tting  I  it  without       inning  the 

Id.       The     em]  street    looked    white    and 

spacious  in   the  morning   sun;   and   the   young   man — 

fir  iking  round  to  see  that  no  one  was  at  hand  to 


Love  Among  the  Artists  357 

misinterpret  his  movements — took  to  his  heels  and  ran 
until  he  turned  a  corner  and  saw  a  policeman,  who 
seemed  half  disposed  to  arrest  him  on  suspicion. 
Escaping  this  danger,  he  went  on  until  he  found  a 
small  eating  house  where  some  workmen  were  break- 
fasting. Here  he  procured  a  cheap  but  plentiful  meal, 
and  was  directed  to  the  railway  station,  whither  he 
immediately  hastened.  A  train  had  just  arrived  as  he 
entered.  As  he  stood  for  a  moment  to  watch  the 
passengers  coming  out,  a  hand  was  laid  gently  on  his 
arm.  He  turned,  and  confronted  Adrian  Herbert, 
who  looked  at  him  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"Well,  Charlie,"  he  said:  "so  this  is  Hounslow,  is 
it?  What  particular  branch  of  engineering  are  you 
studying  here?" 

"Who  told  you  I  was  at  Hounslow?"  said  Charlie, 
with  a  grin. 

"Your  father,  whom  I  met  yesterday  at  Mrs. 
Hoskyn's.  He  told  me  that  you  were  working  very 
hard  at  engineering  with  a  tutor.  I  am  sorry  to  see 
that  your  exertions  have  quite  knocked  you  up. ' ' 

"On  the  contrary,  somebody  else's  exertions  have 
knocked  me  down.  No,  I  ran  over  here  a  few  days 
ago  for  a  little  change.  Of  course  I  didn't  mention  it 
to  the  governor:  he  thinks  Paris  a  sink  of  iniquity. 
You  needn't  mention  it  to  him  either,  unless  you 
like." 

"I  hope  I  am  too  discreet  for  that.  Did  you  know 
that  Mrs.  Herbert  is  in  Paris?" 

"Is  she?  No,  I  didn't  know  it:  I  thought  she  was 
with  you  in  Kensington.  I  hope  you  will  have  a  good 
time  here. ' ' 

"Thank  you.     How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay?" 


8  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Oh,    I    am   goin         ick   directly.      If   I  don't  get 
tra  □    oon,  I  shall  starve;   for  I  have  only  two  or  three 
francs    left    to    keep    me     in     sandwiches     during     the 

v<  >yage. " 

"Draw  OD  me  if  you  are  im    l       nienced." 
Thanks,"  ;   "but   I  can   j 

on  well  .  with  what  I  have — at  I  if  you  could 

.:ics — Thanks  awfully.  I  fa  IVC  run  a 
rig  rather  this  time;  -  I  owe  Mary  fiv<  |  tunds 
air  Q   the   stl  this  tr:  It   is  a  mistake 

to  Paris.       I    wish   I  had     I  home 

"Well,    at   least    you    fa  had   I  rieiu  I 

your  money.      What  has  ha  >ur  lip?      Is  it 

ruise 

"Yes,    I   got   a   •  It's   nothii  I'm    awfully 

liged  '  for 

"Not    at    all.       II  t?       What, 

aln  idy!    You  are  a  I  was  thinking 

aakinj  I    with    me.      I    do  not   wi 

disturb  my  v  :   and  s                           i  kill  time 

for  a   while.      By  :'                            you   ever  been  int 
duced  to  her 

"No,"  -lie  hast                        thing    would 

induce   me  her  in   this  trim.      I   know  I  look  a 

perfect  blackgi  I  can't  wash    my    face;   and  I 

have  due  and  lit  here" — touching 

the    hollow    of    his    chest — "which  1     make    me 

rubbed  me  with  h.     In  fact  I 

shall  take  it  as  a  ;  ular  favor  >n't  mention 

to  her  that  you   have   met  me.      Not  that   it   matters 

much,  of  course;   but  still " 

"Very  well,  I  shall  not  '.       .  the  a  word  of  it  to  any- 
one.    Goodbye.*' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  359 

Charlie  shook  his  hand;  and  they  parted.  "Now," 
thought  Charlie,  looking  after  him  with  a  grin,  and 
jingling  the  borrowed  money  in  his  pocket,  "if  his 
wife  will  only  hold  her  tongue,  I  shall  be  all  right.  I 
wish  she  was  my  wife."  And  heaving  a  sigh,  he 
walked  slowly  away  to  inquire  about  the  trains. 

Herbert  breakfasted  alone.  When  his  appetite  was 
appeased,  he  sat  trying  to  read,  and  looking  repeatedly 
at  his  watch.  He  had  resolved  not  to  seek  his  wife 
until  ten  o'clock ;  but  he  had  miscalculated  his  patience; 
and  he  soon  convinced  himself  that  half  past  nine,  or 
even  nine,  would  be  more  convenient.  Eventually  he 
arrived  at  ten  minutes  to  nine,  and  found  Madame 
Szczympliga  alone  at  table  in  an  old  crimson  bedgown, 
with  her  hair  as  her  pillow  had  left  it. 

"Monsieur  Adrian!"  she  exclaimed,  much  discom- 
posed. "Ah,  you  take  us  by  surprise.  I  had  but  just 
stepped  in  to  make  coffee  for  the  little  one.  She  will 
be  enchanted  to  see  you.     And  I  also." 

"Do  not  let  me  disturb  you.  I  have  breakfasted 
already.     Is  Aurelie  up?" 

"She  will  be  here  immediately.  How  delighted  she 
will  be!     Are  you  quite  well?" 

Not  badly,  madame.     And  you?" 
I  have   suffered  frightfully   with   my  face.     Last 
night  I  was  unable  to  go  to  the  concert  with  Aurelie. 
It  is  a  great  misfortune  for  me,  this  neuralgia." 

"I  am  very  sorry.  It  is  indeed  a  terrible  affliction. 
Are  you  quite  sure  that  Aurelie  is  not  fast  asleep?" 

"I  have  made  her  coffee,  mon  cher;  and  I  know 
her  too  well  to  do  that  before  she  is  afoot.  Trust  me, 
she  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  I  hope  it  is  nothing 
wrong  that  has  brought  you  to  Paris." 


i  c 


>o  Love  Among  the  Artists 


<  'li  no.  I  wanted  a  little  change;  and  when  yon 
came  soni  r,  I  determined  to  run  over  and  meet  yon. 
You  have  been  all  round  Europe  since  I  last  saw  yon." 

"Ah,  what  sncc<  .   Monsieur  Adrian!      You  can- 

not figure  to  yourself  how  she  was  received  at  Ruda- 
pesth.      And  at  Leipzig  too!      It  was — behold  her!" 

Aurelie  stopped  on  the  threshold  and  regarded 
Adrian  with  succ-  e  expressions  of  surprise,  protest 

and  resignati  He  advanced  and  kissed  her  cheek 

ently,  longing  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  but  restrained 
by   the   presence  of  her  moth'  Aurelie  paused  on 

her  way  to  the  table  just  I01  QOUgh  to  suffer  this 
greeting,  and  then  sat  down.  'aiming: 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it  from  that  last  letter'  Oh 
thou  silly  one!     i  Mrs.  Hoskyn  console  thee 

for  yet  another  w< 

"How  Indifferent  si  "  said  Madame  .  inpli 

"  She  is  glad  at  heart  I  .  Mr.  Adrian."     Now, 

this  interference  of  his  mother-in  law,  though  made 
with  amiable  intention,  irrr  Herbert      He  smiled 

litely,  and  turned  a  little  away  from  her  and  towards 
An  re". 

"And  SO  you  have  had  nothing  but  triumphs  since 
we  parted,"  he  sai  Lng  fondly  at  her. 

"What  do  you  know  of  my  triumphs!"  she  said, 
raising  her  head.  "You  only  eare  for  the  tunes  that 
one  whistles  in  the  streets'  At  Prague  I  turned  the 
world  upside  down  with  Monsieur  Jacques  fantasia. 
Plow  lon^  do  you  intend  ay  here'" 

"l'n til  you  can  return  with  mc,  of  course." 

"A  whole  week.  You  will  be  tired  of  your  life, 
unless  you  go  to  the  Louvre  or  some  such  stupidity, 
and  paint." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  361 

"I  shall  be  content,  Aurelie,  never  fear.  Perhaps 
you  will  grow  a  little  tired  of  me." 

"Oh  no,  I  shall  be  too  busy  for  that.  I  have  to 
practise,  and  to  attend  rehearsals,  and  concerts,  and 
private  engagements.  Oh,  I  shall  not  have  time  to 
think  of  you. ' ' 

"Private  engagements.  Do  you  mean  playing  at 
private  houses?" 

"Yes.  This  afternoon  I  play  at  the  reception  of  the 
Princess — what  is  she  called,  mamma?" 

"It  does  not  matter  what  she  is  called,"  said 
Herbert.  "Surely  you  are  not  paid  for  playing  on 
such  occasions?" 

"What!  You  do  not  suppose  that  I  play  for  nothing 
for  people  whom  I  do  not  know — whose  very  names  I 
forget.  No,  I  play  willingly  for  my  friends,  or  for 
the  poor;  but  if  the  great  world  wishes  to  hear  me,  it 
must  pay.  Why  do  you  look  so  shocked?  Would  you, 
then,  decorate  the  saloon  of  the  Princess  with  pictures 
for  nothing,  if  she  asked  you?" 

"It  is  not  exactly  the  same  thing — at  least  the  world 
does  not  think  so,  Aurelie.  I  do  not  like  the  thought 
of  you  going  into  society  as  a  hired  entertainer." 

Aurelie  shrugged  herself.  "I  must  go  for  some 
reason,"  she  said.  "If  they  did  not  pay  me  I  should 
not  go  at  all.  It  is  an  artist's  business  to  do  such 
things." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Adrian,"  said  Madame  Szczympliga, 
"she  is  always  the  most  honored  guest.  The  most  dis- 
tinguished persons  crowd  about  her;  and  the  most 
beautiful  women  are  deserted  for  her.  It  is  always  a 
veritable  little  court  that  she  holds." 

"It  is  as  I  thought,"  said   Aurelie.      "You  came 


62  Love  Among  the  Artists 

across  the  Channel  only  to  quarrel  with  me."  Herbert 
attempted  to  protest;  but  she  went  on  without  heeding 
him.     "Mamma:  have  you  finished  your  breakfast 

"Yes,  my  child." 

"Then  go;  and  put  off  that  terrible  robe  of  thine. 
Leave  us  to  ourselves:  if  we  must  quarrel,  there  is 
no    reason     why     you     should    be    distressed     by     our 

bickerings  " 

"I  hope  vou  are  not  really  running  away  from  me," 
id  Herbert,  ;         ly  accompanying  Madame  Szczym- 
plica  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  for  fa 

"No,  no,    nnni   ilnr,"  sh<  lied    with    ;i  Sigh.      "I 

must     do    as    I    am    bidden.      I     grow    old;     and    she 

becomes  a  greater  tyrant  daily  t<>  all  about  her." 

"Now,    mali  at,"   said   Aurelie,    when   the  door 

was  closed,  "proceed  with  thy  ache        How  many 

th  :d  things  hast  thou  to  complain  of?      Let  us  hear 

how    sad    it    has   made    thee    to  think   that  I  have  be 
happy  ami  successful,  and  that  thou  hast  not  once  been 

able  to  I  my  happine  ack  in  my — H  a! 
wouldst  th        eat   me,   Adrian5"      He   was  straining 

her  to  his  breast  and  k  her  vehemently. 

"You  ar<  t,"  he  athlessly.     "Love  is 

altogethi  Ifish.  Every  fresh  account  of  your  tri- 
umphs only   redoubled   my  longing   to   ha  ck 

with  me  again.     You  do  not  know  what  I  Buffered 

during  all   these   weary  weeks.      I   lived  in  my  studio, 
and  tried  to  paint  you  out  of  my  head;  but  I  could  not 
lint  your  out  of  my   heart.      My   work,    which   once 
seemed  a  wi  iter  thing  than  my  mind  could 

contain,  was  only  a  wearisome  trade  to  me.  I 
rehearsed  imaginary  versions  of  our  next  meeting"  for 
hours    together,    whilst    my   picture    hung    forgotten 


Love  Among  the  Artists  363 

before  me.  I  made  a  hundred  sketches  of  you,  and, 
in  my  rage  at  their  badness,  destroyed  them  as  fast  as 
I  made  them.  In  the  evenings,  I  either  wandered 
about  the  streets  thinking  of  you " 


< ' , 


'Or  went  to  see  Mrs.  Hoskyn?" 

"Who  told  you  that?"  said  Herbert,  discomfited. 

"Ah!"  cried  Aurelie,  laughing — almost  crowing 
with  delight,  "I  guessed  it.  Oh,  that  poor  Monsieur 
Hoskyn!  And  me  also!  Is  this  thy  fidelity — this  the 
end  of  all  thy  thoughts  of  me?" 

"I  wish  your  jealousy  were  real,"  said  Herbert, 
with  a  sort  of  desperation.  "I  believe  you  would  not 
care  if  I  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Hoskyn  as  her  lover.  Why 
did  I  go  to  her?  Simply  because  she  was  the  only 
friend  I  had  who  would  listen  patiently  whilst  I  spoke 
endlessly  of  you — she,  whose  esteem  I  risked,  and 
whose  respect  I  fear  I  lost,  for  your  sake.  But  I  have 
ceased  to  respect  myself  now,  Aurelie.  It  is  my  mis- 
fortune to  love  you  so  much  that  you  make  light  of 
me  for  being  so  infatuated." 

"Well,"  said  Aurelie  soothingly,  "you  must  try  and 
not  love  me  so  much.  I  will  help  you  as  much  as  I  can 
by  making  myself  very  disagreeable.  I  am  far  too 
indulgent  to  you,  Adrian. ' ' 

"You  hurt  me  sometimes  very  keenly,  Aurelie, 
though  you  do  not  intend  it.  But  I  have  never  loved 
you  less  for  that.     I  fear  your  plan  would  make  me 


worse. ' 


'Ah,   I   see.     You   want  to  be   made  love  to,   and 

cured  in  that  way." 

I  am  afraid  I  should  go  mad  then,  Aurelie." 

I  will  not  try.      I  think  you  are  very  injudicious  to 

care  so  much  for  love.     To  me,  it  is  the  most  stupid 


<  ( 


364  Love  Among  the  Artists 

thing  in  the  world.  I  prefer  music.  No  matter,  my 
cherished  one:  I  am  very  fond  of  thee,  in  spite  of  thy 
follies.  Art  thou  not  my  husband?  Now  I  must 
make  an  end  here,  and  go  to  practise." 

"Never  mind  practising  this  morning,  Aurdlie.  Let 
us  talk." 

"Why,  have  we  not  already  talked?  No,  when  I 
miss  my  little  half  hour  of  seeking  for  my  fine  touch, 
I  play  as  all   the   world   |  ;  and  that  is  not  just  to 

myself,  or  to  the  Princess,  who  pays  me  more  than  she 
s  the  others.  One  must  be  honest,  Adrian.  There, 
your  face  is  clouded  again.      You  are  ashamed  of  me." 

"It  is  because  I  am  so  proud  <»f  you  that  I  shrink 
from  the  thought  of  your  talent  being  marketed.  Let 
us  change  the  subject.  Have  you  met  any  of  our 
friend.-  in   Paris?" 

"X<»t  one.  I  have  not  heard  an  English  voice  since 
we  came  here.  But  I  must  not  stop  to  gossip."  She 
took   his  hand  ,  ised   it   for   an   instant  against  her 

bosom;  and   left  the   room.      Herbert,  troubled  by  the 

fort  to  enjoy  fully  the  delight  this  caress  gave  him, 
sat  down  for  a  moment,  pantin.  When  he  was 
timer,  he  took  his  hat  and  went  downstairs,  intend- 
ing to  take  a  stroll  in  the  sunshine.  lie  was  arrested 
at  the  door  of  one  of  the  lower  rooms  by  the  porter's 
wife,  who  held  in  her  shaking  hand  some  money  and 
a  scrap  of  paper,  the  sight  of  which  seemed  to  frenzy 
her;  for  she  was  railing  volubly  at  some  person 
unknown  to  Adrian.  lie  looked  at  her  with  some 
curiosity,  and  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  she  stepped 
before  him. 

"Look  you,  monsieur,"  she  said.  "Be  so  good  as  to 
tell  madame   that  my  house  is  not  a  hospital  for  sots. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  365 

And  tell  your  friend,  he  whose  nose  someone  has 
righteously  crushed,  that  he  had  better  take  good  care 
not  to  come  to  see  me  again.  I  will  make  him  a  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour  if  he  does." 

"My  friend,  madame!"  said  Herbert,  alarmed  by 
her  shrewishness. 

"Your  wife's  friend,  then,  whom  she  brings  home 
drunk  in  her  carriage  at  midnight,  and  who  kicks  my 
sofa  to  pieces,  and  makes  shameless  advances  to  me 
beneath  my  husband's  roof,  and  flies  like  a  thief  in  the 
night,  leaving  for  me  this  insult."  And  she  held  out 
the  scrap  of  paper  to  Adrian.  "With  ten  francs. 
What  is  ten  francs  to  me!"  Adrian,  bewildered, 
looked  unintelligently  at  the  message.  "Come  you, 
monsieur,  and  see  for  yourself  that  I  speak  truly," 
she  continued,  bringing  him  by  a  gesture  into  the 
room.  "See  there,  my  sofa  ripped  up  and  soiled  with 
his  heels.  See  madame's  fine  rug  trampled  on  the 
floor.     See  the  pillow  which  she  put  under  his  wicked 

head  with  her  own  hands " 

What  are  you  talking  about?"  said  Adrian  sternly. 

For  whom  do  you  take  me?" 

"Are  you  not  Monsieur  Herbert?" 

"Yes." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so.  Well,  Monsieur  Herbert, 
it  is  your  dear  friend,  who  carries  your  portrait  next 
his  heart,  who  has  treated  me  thus." 

"Really,"  said  Adrian,  "I  do  not  understand  you. 
You  speak  of  me — of  my  wife — of  some  friend  of  mine 
with  my  portrait " 

"And  the  nose  of  him  crushed." 

" all  in  a  breath.     What  do  you  mean?     As  you 

know,  I  only  arrived  here  this  morning." 


1  i 
it 


V>6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Truly,  monsieur,  you  have  arrived  a  day  after  the 
fair.  All  I  tell  y<>u  is  that  madame  came  home  Last 
night   with  a  drunken    robber,  a  y  English  spri.  . 

who  slept  her  .  lie  has  run  away;  and  heaven  knows 
what  he  has  taken  with  him.  He  leaves  me  this 
money,  and  this  note  to  mock  me  because  I  scorned 
hisvi'.  :is.      Beh<  >1  1  the  table  where  he  left  it.  " 

Adrian,  hardly  venturing  to  understand  the  woman, 

lo  the     table,    and    saw    a    note    which   had 

I    her    attention.       She,    following    his  glance, 

"What!     Another." 

"It  is  add  -d  to  my  wife,"  said  Adrian,  taking  it, 

an  he  did  so.     "Doubtl  ntains 

an  explanation  of   his  conduct.      I   recognize  the  hand- 

riting  as  thai  nd  of  min<       Did  you 

hear  his  name?'1 

"It  was   an    English    nan  English    names   are  all 

alike  to  m« 

"Did  hi       :  himself  Sutherland?" 
uYes,  it  was  like  that,  quite  I         sh." 
"It  is  all  right  then.     H  at  a  h  boy,  the 

brother  of  an  old  friend  of  mine." 

"Truly  a  strong  I  >r  his  years.     He  is  your  old 

friend,  of  i  It  is  .  Ah,  monsieur,  if  I 
v.a  ■        ne  to  talk  and  make  mischief,   I  C  >uld " 

"T    ank  you."  .  interrupting  her  firmly. 

"I  can  hear  the  rest  from  Madame  Herbert,  if  there 
is   anything   else    to    hear."'      And    he    left    the   room. 

a  the  landing  without,  lie  saw  Madame  Szczymplica, 
who,  overlooking  him,  addr  r  elf  angrily  to  the 

old  woman. 

"Why  is  this  noise   made?"  she  demanded.      "How 


Love  Among  the  Artists  367 

is  it  possible  for  Mademoiselle  to  practise  with  this 
hurly  burly  in  her  ears?" 

"And  why  should  I  not  make  a  noise,"  retorted  the 
woman,  "when  I  am  insulted  in  my  own  house  by  the 
friends  of  Mademoi " 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  a  voice  from  above. 
The  woman  became  silent  as  if  struck  dumb ;  and  for 
a  moment  there  was  no  sound  except  the  light  descend- 
ing footfall  of  Aurelie.  "What  is  the  matter?"  she 
repeated,  as  she  came  into  their  view. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  muttered  the  old  woman  sulkily, 
glancing  apprehensively  at  Adrian. 

"You  make  a  very  great  noise  about  nothing  at  all," 
said  Aurelie  coolly,  pausing  with  her  hand  on  the 
balustrade.  "Have  you  quite  done;  and  may  I  now 
practise  in  peace?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you,"  said  the  woman 
apologetically,  but  still  grumbling.  "I  was  speaking 
to  Monsieur." 

"Monsieur  must  either  go  out,  or  come  upstairs  and 
read  the  journals  quietly,"  said  Aurelie. 

"I  will  come  upstairs,"  said  Adrian,  in  a  tone  that 
made  her  look  at  him  with  momentary  curiosity.  The 
old  woman  meanwhile  retreated  into  her  apartment; 
and  Madame  Szczymplica,  who  had  listened  submis- 
sively to  her  daughter,  disappeared  also.  Aurelie,  on 
returning  to  the  room  in  which  she  practised,  found 
herself  once  more  alone  with  Adrian. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  troublesome  woman,"  she  said.  "All 
proprietresses  are  so.  I  should  like  to  live  in  a  palace 
with  silent  black  slaves  to  come  and  go  when  I  clap  my 
hands.  She  has  spoiled  my  practice.  And  you  seem 
quite  put  out." 


V>S  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"I Aurelie:   I  met  Mrs.  Iloskyn's  brother  at  the 

railway    •   •    ai  this  morning." 

14 Really!      I  thought  he  was  in  India." 

"I  mean  her  younger  brother." 

"All,  I  did  not  know  that  she  had  another." 

Herbert  Looked  aghast  at  her.     She  had  spoken  care- 

ind  was  brushing  some  specks  of  dust  from  the 
keyboard  of  the  pianoforte,  as  to  the  cleanliness  of 
which  she  was  always  fastidious. 

"He  did  ll  .1  me  that  he  had  seen  you,  Aurelie," 

he   said,    controlling    himself.      "Under     the    circum- 
stances I  thought  that  rather  strange.    lie  even  affected 

arprise     when  I  mentioned    that    you    were    in 

Paris." 

it   the   keyboard,    and   looked   at  him   with 

wonder  and  some  amusement     "You  thought  it  very 

Stranj  si.         .  d.       "What     are    you     dreaming    of? 

What  el  I  he  say,  since  he  never  saw  me,  nor 

I  him,  in  our  lives — except  at  a   concert?      Have  I  not 

said  that  I  did  I  D  know  of  his  existence  until  you 

told  me?" 

he  exclaimed  in  a  strange  voice,  turning 
pallid.  •    hanged  color;  came  to  him  quickly; 

and  caught  his  arm,    E  /,  "Heaven!     What   is  the 

matter  with  thee?" 

"Aureli  '  he  said,  recovering  his  self-control,  and 
disengaging  himself  quietly   from  her  hold;   "pray  be 

rious.  Why  should  you,  even  in  jest,  deceive  me 
about  Sutherland?  If  he  has  done  anything'  wrong, 
I  will  not  blam  For  it." 

She  retreated  a  step,  and  slowly  raised  her  head  and 

1  herself  in  a  haughtier  attitude.      "You  speak  of 

deceit!"    she  said.      Then,  shaking  her  finger  at  him, 


« ( 


Love  Among  the  Artists  369 

she  added  indignantly,  "Ah,  take  care,  Adrian,  take 
care." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  said  sternly,  "that 
you  have  not  made  the  acquaintance  of  Sutherland 
here?" 

"I  do  tell  you  so.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  you  do 
not  believe  me." 

And  that  he  has  not  passed  the  night  here. " 

Oh!"  she  cried,  and  shrank  a  little. 

Aurelie,"  he  said,  with  a  menacing  expression 
which  so  disfigured  and  debased  his  face  that  she 
involuntarily  recoiled  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hands:  "I  have  never  before  opened  a  letter  addressed 
to  you;  but  I  will  do  so  now.  There  are  occasions 
when  confidence  is  mere  infatuation ;  and  it  is  time,  I 
fear,  to  shew  you  that  my  infatuation  is  not  so  blind 
as  you  suppose.  This  note  was  left  for  you  this  morn- 
ing, under  circumstances  which  have  been  explained 
to  me  by  the  woman  downstairs. ' '  A  silence  followed 
whilst  he  opened  the  note  and  read  it.  Then,  looking 
up,  and  finding  her  looking  at  him  quite  calmly,  he 
said  sadly,  "There  is  nothing  in  it  that  you  need 
be  ashamed  of,  Aurelie.  You  might  have  told  me  the 
truth.  It  is  in  the  handwriting  of  Charlie  Suther- 
land." 

This  startled  her  for  a  moment.  "Ah,"  she  said, 
"the  scamp  gave  me  a  false  name.  But  as  for  thee, 
unhappy  one,"  she  added,  as  a  ray  of  hope  appeared 
in  Herbert's  eyes,  "adieu  for  ever."  And  she  was 
gone  before  he  recovered  himself. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  follow  her  and  apologize, 
so  simply  and  completely  did  her  exclamation  that 
Sutherland  had  given  her  a  false  name  seem  to  explain 


1 


jo  Love  Amon^  the  Artists 


her  denial  of  having  met  him.  Then  he  asked  himself 
how  came  she  to  bring  home  a  young  man  in  her 
carriage;  and  why  had  she  made  a  secret  of  it?     vShe 

had  said,  he    now  remembered,  that  she  had  not  heard 

any  English  voice   e:         I   his  own  since  she  had  come 

to  Paris.     Herbert  was  constitutionally  apt  to  feel  at  a 

disadvantage  with   other  men,   and  to  give  credit  to 

the   least  sin  i    that   they  were  preferred  to  him- 

If.       lie    did     not    even     now     accuse    his    wife    of 

infidelity;   but  he  had  long  felt  that  she  misunderstood 

him;   withheld  herconfid<  from  him;  and  kept  him 

art   from   th<         friends  of  hers  in  wh  <>cicty  she 

It  happy  and  unrestrained.     In  the  thought  of  this 

there   was    for    him    mo:  usy   and    mortification 

than  a  coarser  man  might  have  suffered  from  a  wicked 

•nan. 

Whilst     he     was     thinking    over    it    all,     the    door 
ened ;    ami    Madame  -ymplica,  in   tears,    entered 

hastily. 

"My    God,    Monsieur    Adrian,    what    is   the   matter 

betwixt  you  and  Aurel 

"Nothing   at   all,'     said     Herbert,    with   constrained 
liteness.     "Nothii        fanyconseqi 

uDo  not  tell  me  that,"  she  protest  .  pathetically. 
"I  know  her  t<  believe  it.     She  is  going  a 

and  she  will  not  tell  me  why.  And  now  you  will  not 
tell  me  either.      I  am  made  nothing  of." 

"Did  you  say  she  is  going  away?*1 

"Y  What     have     you    done     to    her^ — my    poor 

child!" 

Herbert  did  not  feel  bound  to  account  for  his  con- 
duct to  his  mother-in-law:  yet  he  felt  that  she  was 
entitled  to  some  answer.     "Madame  Szczymplica, "  he 


1 1 


Love  Among  the  Artists  371 

said,  after  a  moment's  reflexion:  "can  you  tell  me 
under  what  circumstances  Aurelie  met  the  young 
gentleman  who  was  here  last  night?" 

"That  is  it,  is  it?  I  knew  it:  I  told  Aurelie  that  she 
was  acting  foolishly.  But  there  was  nothing  in  that 
to  quarrel  about." 

I  do  not  say  there  was.  How  did  it  happen?'* 
Nothing  in  the  world  but  this.  I  had  neuralgia; 
and  Aurelie  would  not  suffer  me  to  accompany  her  to 
the  concert.  As  she  was  returning,  her  carriage 
knocked  down  this  miserable  boy,  who  was  drunk. 
You  know  how  impetuous  she  is.  She  would  not 
leave  him  there  insensible;  and  she  took  him  into  the 
carriage  and  brought  him  here.  She  made  the  woman 
below  harbor  him  for  the  night  in  her  sitting  room. 
That  is  all. ' ' 

"But  did  he  not  behave  himself  badly?" 

"Mon  cher,  he  was  drunk — drunk  as  a  beast,  with 
his  nose  beaten  in." 

"It  is  strange  that  Aurelie  never  told  me  of  such  a 
remarkable  incident." 

"Why,  you  are  not  an  hour  arrived;  and  the  poor 
child  has  been  full  of  the  joy  and  surprise  of  seeing 
you  so  unexpectedly.  It  is  necessary  to  be  reason- 
able, Monsieur  Adrian." 

"The  fact  is,  madame,  that  I  have  had  a  misunder- 
standing with  Aurelie  in  which  neither  of  us  was  to 
blame.  I  should  not  have  doubted  her,  perhaps;  but 
I  think,  under  the  circumstances,  my  mistake  was 
excusable.     I  owe  her  an  apology,  and  will  make  it  at 


once 


» > 


Wait  a  little, "  said  Madame  Szczympliga  nervously, 
as  he  moved  towards  the  door.     "You  had  better  let 


•j  Lose  Among  the  Artists 

me  ^ro   first:     I   will   ask   her  to  receive   you.      She  is 

ed. " 

II-  rt  did  not  like  this  suggestion;  but  he  sub- 
mitted to  it,  and  sat  down  at  the  pianoforte  to  await 
Mad. m.  mplica's  return.       To    while   away   the 

ne  and  to  persuade  himself  that  he  was  not  too  fear- 
ful  of  the   result  of   her  n  :i.  he   played   softly  as 

much  of  his  favorit    M  ndelssohnian  airs  as  conld  be 

oompanied  by  the  three  ch<        which  exhausted  his 

kn<  the  art  of  h  At  last,  after  a 

long  absence,  bis  mother-in-law   returned,  evidently 

much  troubled. 

"I  am  a  most  unlucky  mother,"  she  said,  seating 
herself,  and  trying  I  "She  will 

not  listen  to  n.        Oh,   Monsieur   Adrien,  what  can 
have  •  .  you  to  enr  .       her  BO?     You,  who 

e  alv  entle! — she  will  not  let  me  mention 

:r  name 

I  have  y  lained  tol    r ?"' 

"What     is     the     use     of     explainin  She     is    not 

•  ional. '" 

"What 

"She   say     ..    Mird   thil  Recollect   that  she   is  as 

•  only  a  child.  SI  y<>u  have  betray*  >ur 
real  Opinion  <>f  her  at  last  I  told  her  that  circum- 
stances seemed  at  the  time  t<>  pr         that  she  had  acted 

jhly,  but  that  you  now  admitted  your  error." 
"And  then-" 

"Then  she   said   that  her  maid   mi:dit  have  doubted 

her,  and   afterwards   admitted   her  error  on   the  same 

und.      Oh,    she   is   a    strange   creature,    is    Aurelie' 

What   can   <»ne  do   with  a  terrible   child?     She  is 

•skive  that  she  will  never   speak  to  you  again;  and  I 


Love  Among  the  Artists  373 

fear  she  is  in  earnest.  I  can  do  no  more.  I  have 
argued — implored — wept;  but  she  is  an  ingrate,  a 
heart  of  marble. " 

Here  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door;  and  a  servant 
appeared. 

"Madame  Herbert  wishes  you  to  accompany  her  to 
the  pianoforte  place,  madame.  She  is  going  thither  to 
practise." 

Herbert  only  looked  downcast;  and  Madame 
Szczympliga  left  the  room  stifling  a  sob.  Herbert 
knew  not  what  to  do.  A  domestic  quarrel  involving 
the  interference  of  a  mother-in-law  had  always  seemed 
to  him  an  incident  common  among  vulgar  people,  but 
quite  foreign  to  his  own  course  of  life ;  and  now  that  it 
had  actually  occurred  to  him,  he  felt  humiliated.  He 
found  a  little  relief  as  the  conviction  grew  upon  him 
that  he,  and  not  Aurelie,  was  to  blame.  There  was 
nothing  new  to  him  in  the  reflexion  that  he  had  been 
weak  and  hasty:  there  would  be  pleasure  in  making 
reparation,  in  begging  her  forgiveness,  in  believing  in 
and  loving  her  more  than  ever.  But  this  would  be  on 
condition  that  she  ultimately  forgave  him,  of  which  he 
did  not  feel  at  all  sure,  as  indeed  he  never  felt  sure  of 
her  on  any  point,  not  even  that  she  had  really  loved 
him. 

In  this  state  of  mind  he  saw  her  carriage  arrive,  and 
heard  her  descend  the  stairs  and  pass  the  door  of  the 
room  where  he  was.  Whilst  he  was  hesitating  as  to 
whether  he  should  go  out  and  speak  to  her  then,  she 
drove  away;  and  the  opportunity,  now  that  it  was  lost, 
seemed  a  precious  one.  He  went  downstairs,  and 
asked  the  old  woman  when  she  expected  Madame 
Herbert   to  return.     Not  until  six  o'clock,   she  told 


37  j  Love  Among  the  Artists 

him.  lie  resigned  himself  to  eight  hours'  suspense, 
and  went  to  the  Luxembourg,  where  he  enjoyed  such 

pleasure  as  he  could  obtain  by  admiring  the  works  of 
men  who  could  paint  better  than  he.  It  was  a  long 
day;   but  it  came  to  an  end  at  last. 

"I  will  announce  you,  monsieur,"  said  the  old 
woman  hastily,  as  she  admitted  him  at  half-past  six. 

"No,"  he  said  firmly,  resolved  not  to  give  Aurelie  an 
opportunity  of  escaping  from  him.  "I  will  announce 
myself."     And   he   ]  I    the   portress,    who   seemed 

disposed,  but  afraid,  to  bar  his  path.  As  he  went  up, 
he  heard  the  pianoforte  played  in  a  style  which  he 
hardly  recognized.  The  touch  was  hard  and 
impatient;  and  false  notes  were  struck,  followed  by 
almost  violent  repetitions  of  the  passage  in  which 
they     occurred.      He    stood    at    the    door   a    moment, 

listening. 

"My   child,"    said    Madame    Szczymplica'a    voice: 

"that  is  not  practice.  You  become  worse  every 
moment:   and  you  are  Bpoiling  the  instrument." 

"Let  me  alone.  It  is  a  detestable  piano;  and  I  hope 
I  may  break  it." 

Herbert's  courage  sank  at  the  angry  tone  of  his 
wife's  voi> 

"You  let  yourself  be  put  out  by  nothing  at  all.  Do 
I  not  tell  you  that  everybody  thought  you  played  like 
an  angel?" 

"I  will  not  be  told  so  again.  I  played  vilely.  I 
will  give  up   music.      I   hate   it:   and    I   n<  -hall  be 

able  to  play.  I  have  tried  and  failed.  It  was  a  mis- 
take for  me  ever  to  have  attempted  it." 

At  this  moment  Adrian,  hearing  the  footsteps  of  the 
old  woman,  who  was  coming  up  to  listen  at  the  key- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  375 

hole,  entered  the  room.  Madame  Szczymplica  stared 
at  him  in  consternation.  He  walked  quickly  across 
the  room,  and  sat  down  close  to  his  wife  at  the 
pianoforte. 

"Aurelie,"  he  said:  "you  must  forgive  me." 

"Never,  never,  never,"  she  cried,  turning-  quickly 
round  so  as  to  confront  him.  "I  have  this  day  dis- 
graced myself:  and  it  is  your  fault." 

"My  fault,  Aurelie?" 

"Do  not  call  me  Aurelie.  Now  you  smile  because 
you  have  had  your  revenge.  Am  I  not  unhappy 
enough  without  being  forced  to  see  and  speak  to  you, 
who  have  made  me  unhappy?  Go:  disembarrass  me, 
or  I  will  myself  seek  some  other  roof.  What  madness 
possessed  me,  an  artist,  to  marry?  Did  I  not  know 
that  it  is  ever  the  end  of  an  artist's  career?" 

"You  cannot  believe, "  he  said,  much  agitated,  "that 
I  would  wilfully  cause  you  a  moment's  pain.  I 
love " 

"Ah,  yes,  you  love  me.  It  is  because  you  love  me 
that  you  insult  me.  It  is  because  you  love  me  that 
you  are  ashamed  of  me  and  reproach  me  with  playing 
for  hire.  It  is  because  you  love  me  that  I  have  failed 
before  the  whole  world,  and  lost  the  fruit  of  long 
years  of  work.  You  will  find  my  mother's  scissors  in 
that  box.  Why  do  you  not  cut  off  my  fingers,  since 
you  have  paralysed  them?" 

Adrian,  shuddering  in  every  fibre  at  the  suggestion, 
caught  her  proffered  fingers  and  squeezed  them  in 
his  hands.  "My  darling,"  he  said:  "you  pain  me 
acutely  by  your  reproaches.  Will  you  not  forgive 
me?" 

"You  waste  your  breath,"  she  said  obdurately,  dis- 


^76  Love  Among  the  Artists 

engaging  herself  petulantly.  "I  am  not  listening  to 
you."     And  she  began  to  pla;        tin. 

" Auivlie,"  he  said  presently. 

She  played  attentively,  and  did  not  seem  to  hear 
him. 

"Aurelie,"  he  repeated  urgently.  No  answer.  "Do 
cease  that  horrible  thing,    my   darling,    and   listen   to 

me." 

This   stopped   her.       She   turned    with    tears   in    her 

s,  and  exclaimed,  "Yes,  it  is  horribl        Everything 

that  I  touch  is  horrible  now."  She  shut  the  piano  as 
she  sp>ke.      "I  will  never  open  it  more.      Mamma." 

"My  angel,"  replied  Madame  ymplica,  starting. 

"Tell  them  to  semi  for  it  tO-moiTOW.  I  do  not 
want  even  to  see  it  when  I  come  down  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"But,"  said  Herbert,  "you  quite  misunderstand  me. 
Can  you  sir  that  I  think  your  playing  horribl 

or  that,  if   I  thought    it,  I  would   be  so  brutal  as  to  say 

"You     do     think     it     horribl         Everyone    finds    it 
lie.      So  you  are  light  " 

"It  was  only  what  you  v.  laying " 

"I  was  one  of  Chopin'fl  studies.  You  used  to  like 
Chopin.       You   would    do  1  silent:    every 

word  you  utter  betrays  your  real  thoughts." 

Herbert  gently  re-Opened  the  pianofotta  "If  it 
were  the  singing  of  angels,  Aurelie,  it  would  be 
horrible  to  me  as  long  as  it  delayed  the  assurance  I  am 
waiting  for — of  your  forgiveness." 

"You  shall  never  have  it.  Nor  do  I  believe  that 
you  care  for  it. ' ' 

"Never   is  a    long    word.      You   have   said    it    very 


Love  Among  the  Artists  377 

often  this  evening,  Aurelie.  You  will  never  play- 
again.  You  will  never  speak  to  me  again.  You  will 
never  forgive  me." 

"Do  not  argue  with  me.  You  fatigue  me."  She 
turned  away,  and  began  to  improvise,  looking  upward 
at  the  cornice  with  a  determined  expression  which 
gradually  faded  and  vanished.  Herbert,  discouraged 
by  her  last  retort,  did  not  venture  to  interrupt  her 
until  the  last  trace  of  displeasure  had  disappeared  from 
her  face.  Then  he  pleaded  in  alow  voice.  "Aurelie." 
The  frown  reappeared  instantly.  "Do  not  stop  play- 
ing. I  only  wish  to  assure  you  that  I  was  not  jealous 
this  morning. ' ' 

"O — h!"  she  ejaculated,  taking  her  hands  from  the 
keyboard,  and  letting  them  fall  supine  in  her  lap. 
Herbert,  taken  aback  by  the  prolonged  and  expressive 
interjection,  looked  at  her  in  silent  discomfiture. 
"Mamma:  thou  hearest  him!  He  says  he  was  not 
jealous.  Oh,  Adrian,  how  art  thou  fallen,  thou,  who 
wast  truth  itself!  Thou  art  learning  to  play  the  hus- 
band well. ' ' 

"I  thought  you  had  deceived  me,  dearest;  but  I  was 
not  jealous." 

Then  you  do  not  love  me." 

Let  me  explain.  I  thought  you  had  deceived  me 
in  your  account  of — of  that  wretched  boy  whom  we 
shall  never  allude  to  again — " 

"There,  there.  Do  not  remind  me  of  it.  You  were 
base:  you  were  beneath  yourself:  no  explanation  can 
change  that.  But  my  failure  at  the  Princess's  is  so 
much  greater  a  misfortune  that  it  has  put  all  that  out 
of  my  head." 

Aurelie,"  remonstrated  Herbert  involuntarily. 


n 


37S  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"What!  yon  begin  to  complain  already — before  I 
have  half  rcl< 

ltI  know  too  well,"  he  replied  sadly,  "that  yonr  art 
is  as  much  dearer  to  yon  than  1,  as  yon  are  dearer  to 
me  than  mine.  Well,  well,  I  plead  guilty  to  every- 
thing   except    want  of  love   for  yon.       Now  will  you 

Instead     of    replying    she     began     to    play    merrily. 
•lysh<  r, and  said,  "You 

will  promi  ver  to  commit  such  a  sin  again." 

"I  swear  it." 
And  yon  are  very  sorry?" 
I  desolate,  A.ur61ie." 

Be  paid  I,  then.  If  thou  art  truly  penitent,  I 
will  accompany  th.ee  to  the  Louvre;  and  thou  shalt 
shew  me  the  pi 

She  played  away  without  intermission  whilst  she 
spoke,    dis  -     which    he,    in    spite    of 

Mada  mpli<;  ,  could  not  refrain  from 

pressing  on  her  cheek. 


. . 


CHAPTER   III 

When  the  novelty  of  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  first  baby  had 
worn  off,  she  successfully  resisted  the  temptation  to 
abandon  it  to  the  care  of  her  servants,  as  an  exacting 
little  nuisance ;  but  her  incorrigible  interest  in  art,  no 
longer  totally  eclipsed  by  the  cradle,  retook  possession 
of  her  mind.  This  interest,  as  usual,  took  the  form 
of  curiosity  as  to  what  Adrian  Herbert  was  doing. 
Now  that  her  domestic  affections  were  satisfied  and 
centred  by  Hoskyn,  and  that  the  complete  absorption 
of  Herbert's  affections  by  his  wife  was  beyond  all 
suspicion,  she  felt  easier  and  more  earnest  in  her 
friendship  for  him  than  ever  before.  Marriage  had 
indeed  considerably  deepened  her  capacity  for 
friendship. 

One  morning,  Hoskyn  looked  up  from  his  paper  and 
said,  ' '  Have  you  looked  at  the  Times.  There  is  some- 
thing in  it  about  Herbert  that  he  won't  like." 

"I  hope  not.     The  Times  always  spoke  well  of  him. ' ' 

Hoskyn,  without  a  word,  handed  her  the  sheet  he 
had  been  reading  and  took  up  another. 

"Oh  John,"  said  Mary,  putting  down  the  paper  in 
dismay;  "what  is  to  be  done?" 

"Done!     What  about?" 

"About  Adrian." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Hoskyn,  placably.  "Why 
should  we  do  anything?" 

"I  for  one,  shall  be  very  sorry  if  he  loses  his 
position,  after  all  his  early  struggling." 

379 


'o  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"He  won't  lose  it.      Who  cares  about  the  Times?" 
"But  I  am  greatly  afraid  that  the  Times  is  right.'1 
"If  you   think    so,    why,    that's    another   thing.       In 
that  case,  Herbert  had  better  work  a  little  harder." 
"Yes;  but  he  always  used  to  work  so  hard." 
"Web,  he  must  keep  at  it,  you  know." 
Mary  fell  amusing;  and  Hoskyn  went  on  reading. 

"Adrian  should  never  have  married,"  she  said 
presently. 

"Why  not,  my  dear"' 

"Because  of  that,"  she  replied,  pointing  to  the 
paper. 

"They  don't  find  fault  with  him  for  being  a  married 

man,  though. " 

They  find  fault  with  him  for  being  what  his  marriage 
lias  made  him.  He  neither  thinks  n<>r  cares  about 
anything  but  his  wif< 

'That  needn't  prevent  his  working, "  said  Hoskyn. 
"/  contrive  tl  of  work,"  he  added 

with  an  amorous  glance,  "without  caring  any  the  less 
for  my  wife.  " 

"Your  wife  does  not  run  away  from  you  to  the  other 
end  of  Europe  at  a  moment's  notice,  John.  She  does 
UOt  laugh   at  your   busi:^  and  treat   you   as  if  you 

were  a  little  boy  who  sometimes  gets  troublesome. " 

"Still,"  said  Hoskyn  reflectively,  "she  has  a  sort  of 
fascination  about  he: 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mary,  supposing  that  her  husband 
had  been  paying  her  a  compliment,  whereas  he  had 
really   referred   to    Aurel  "I     feel   very   much     in 

earnest  about  this.  It  is  quite  pitiable  to  see  a  man 
like  Adrian  become  the  slave  of  a  woman  who  obviously 
docs  not  care   for  him — or  perhaps  I  should  not  say 


Love  Among  the  Artists  381 

that;  but  she  certainly  does  not  care  for  him  as  he 
deserves  to  be  cared  for.  I  am  beginning-  to  think 
that  she  cares  for  nothing  but  money." 

"Oh,  come!"  remonstrated  Hoskyn.  "You're  too 
hard  on  her,  Mary.  She  certainly  doesn't  seem  to 
concern  herself  much  about  Herbert :  but  then  I  fancy 
that  he  is  rather  a  milk-and-water  sort  of  man.  I 
know  he  is  a  very  good  fellow,  and  all  that ;  but  there 
is  a  something  wanting  in  him — not  exactly  stamina, 
but — but  something  or  other." 

"There  is  a  great  want  of  worldliness  and  indifference 
in  him ;  and  I  hope  there  always  will  be,  although  a 
little  of  both  would  help  him  to  bring  his  wife  to  her 
senses.     Still,  Adrian  is  weak." 

"I  should  think  so.  For  my  part,"  said  Hoskyn, 
scratching  his  beard,  and  glancing  at  his  wife  as  if  he 
were  going  to  make  a  venturesome  remark,  "I  wronder 
how  any  woman  could  be  bothered  with  him!  I  may 
be  prejudiced:  but  that's  my  opinion." 

"Oh,  that  is  absurd,"  said  Mary.  "She  may  con- 
sider herself  very  fortunate  in  getting  so  good  a  man. 
He  is  too  good  for  her :  that  is  where  the  real  difficulty 
lies.  He  is  neglecting  himself  on  her  account.  Do 
you  think  I  ought  to  speak  to  him  seriously  about 
it?" 

"Humph!"  muttered  Hoskyn  cautiously.  "It's 
generally  rather  unwise  to  mix  oneself  up  with  other 
people's  affairs,  particularly  family  affairs.  You 
don't  as  a  rule  get  thanked  for  it." 

"I  know  that.  But  is  it  right  to  hold  aloof  when  one 
might  do  some  good  by  disregarding  consideration  of 
that  sort?  It  is  always  safest  to  do  nothing.  But  I 
doubt  if  it  is  generous." 


\a  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Well,  v  ::     an  d  you  like.     If  I  were  in  your 

place,  I  wouldn't  meddle. " 
"Von  are  running  away  with  an  idea  that  I   am 

going  to  make    mischief,  and   talk  to  Adrian  about  his 

wil  I  only  want  to  him  a  little  lecture,  such  as 

I  have  given   him  twenty  til  re.      I  am  in  some 

sort  his  fellow  student.  Don't  you  think  I  might 
ventui  I    cans   t    see   how    I    can    do   any   harm    I 

eaking  to  him  a       I  what  the  Times  says.*' 

Eioskyn  pursed  his  lips,  and  shook  his  head.  Mary, 
who   had    made    Up   her   mind   to   t  Irian,    and 

wanted    to    I  I    to    do   so,    added,    with   some 

V<  ourse  I  will   not  go  if  you  do  not  wish 

me  to." 

"I!  .  my  dear:   I  don't  want  to  interfere 

with  you.      I  i  all  means  if  you  like." 

"Very  well,  John.      I    tl  I  had   better."     As  she 

said  thi  ae  were  1  rence  to  his 

wishes,  h<  •  nclined  to  remon- 

Btral  ...  :,A]  buried  himself 

in  tl.  until  it  was  tin  "  him  to  go  to  the 

After  luncheon  that    '      .  Mary  put  on  her  broad  hat 

and  cloak — hern  aciledher 

to  bonnets — and  to   South    K'         Lgton,  where 

Herb*        till  kept  his  stud         The  Avenui        tlham 

Road,   resembl  lane  ■      •  tea  of  the 

back    -aniens   of   tk  h boring   houses    rather  than 

an     artist's     COUTtyard.       E  ■.'■'..  mie    plaster 

colossus,  crowded  out  of  a  scul  I  r*S  studio,  appears 
incon  usly  at  the   extremity  of  the   short   perspec- 

tive, n<  □  would  dream  of  turning  down  there  in 

quest  of  -  or  pictures.      Disregarding  a  gigantic 


it- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  383 

clay  horse  which  ramped  in  the  sun,  its  nostrils  carved 
into  a  snort  of  a  type  made  familiar  to  Mary  by  the 
Elgin  marbles  and  the  knights  in  her  set  of  chessmen, 
she  entered  at  a  door  on  the  right  which  led  to  a  long 
corridor,  on  each  side  of  which  were  the  studios.  In 
one  of  these  she  found  Adrian,  with  his  palette  set  and 
his  canvas  uncovered  on  the  easel,  but  with  the 
Times  occupying  all  his  attention  as  he  sat  uncom- 
fortably on  the  rung  of  a  broken  chair. 

Mrs.  Hoskyn!"  he  exclaimed,  rising  hastily. 
'Yes,  Adrian.     Mrs.    Hoskyn's    compliments;   and 
she  is  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Herbert  reading  the  news- 
papers which  he  once  despised,  and  neglecting  the  art 
in  which  he  once  gloried." 

"I  have  taken  to  doing  both  since  I  established  my- 
self as  a  family  man,"  he  replied  with  a  sigh.  "Will 
you  ascend  the  throne?  It  is  the  only  seat  in  the 
place  that  can  be  depended  upon  not  to  break  down." 

"Thank  you.  Have  you  been  reading  the  Times 
ever  since  your  breakfast?" 

"Have yozi  seen  it,  Mary?" 

"Yes." 

Herbert  laughed,  and  then  glanced  anxiously  at  her. 

"It  is  all  very  well  to  laugh,"  she  said,  " — and,  as 
you  know,  nobody  despises  newspaper  criticism  more 
thoroughly  than  I,  when  it  is  prejudiced  or  flippant." 

"In  this  instance,  perhaps  you  agree  with  the 
Times. ' ' 

Mary  immediately  put  on  her  glasses,  and  looked 
hardily  at  him,  by  which  he  knew  that  she  was  going 
to  say  "I  do."  When  she  had  said  it,  he  smiled 
patiently. 

Adrian,"  she  said,  with  some  remorse:  "do  you 


• t 


-> 


84  Love  Among  the  Artists 


feel  it  to  be  true  yourself?    If  you  do  not,  then  I  shall 

admit  that  I  am  in  error." 

"There  may  be  some  truth  in  it — I  am  hardly  an 
impartial  judge  in  the  matter.  It  is  not  easy  to 
explain  my  feeling  c  incerning  it.  To  begin  with,  I 
am  afraid  that  when  I  used  to  preach  to  you  about 
the  :  Mty  of  devoti:  .       DC  I  If  wholly  and  earnestly 

to  the  sti:  irt   in   order  to  attain  true  excellence, 

I  was  talk  use — or  at  least  e:  iting  mere 

practice,  which  is  a  condition  of  success  in  tinkering 
and  tailoring  as  much  as  in  painting,  into  a  -reat 
central  principle  peculiar  to  art.  I  have  discovered 
since   that   life   is   larger   than  an]  cial   craft.      The 

difficulty  <>r.  i  med  to  lie  in  expanding  myself  to 

the   univers.il   comprehensive:  ait:    now    I   per- 

ceive   that   it  lie  Q  tract  in  g     myself   within     the 

limits  of  my  pro!  al  I  am  not  sure  that  that  is 

quite  d< 

"Well,  :'   you   1.  lost   your  conviction 

that  it  is  worth  whil<  I  do  not  know 

what   to  say  11.  .t   it   worth  any 

ce.  " 

"Yes,  when  I  was  a  b  <y,  and  had  nothing  to  sacrifice. 

But    I    do   not  say  that    it  0  >t  worth    while   to  be  an 

artist;  for,  you  see,  I  have  not  given  Up  my 
pn 

"But  you  have  brought  the  Times  down  on  you." 
"Tra         The    Times  now  in  my   work 

which    I   cannot  .  it  formerly  failed   to  see 

defects  in  my  early  work  which  are  very  plain  to  me 
now.  It  says  very  truly  that  I  no  longer  take  infinite 
pains.  I  do  my  best  still;  but  I  confess  that  I  work  less 
at  my  pictures  than  I   used  to,  because  then  I  strove  to 


Love  Among  the  Artists  385 

make  up  for  my  shortcomings  by  being  laborious,  where- 
as I  now  perceive  that  mere  laboriousness  does  not  and 
cannot  amend  any  shortcoming  in  art  except  the  want 
of  itself,  which  is  not  always  a  shortcoming — sometimes 
quite  the  reverse.  Laboriousness  is,  at  best,  only  an 
appeal  ad  miseracordiam  to  oneself  and  the  critics. 
'Sir  Lancelot'  is  a  bad  picture,  if  you  like;  but  do 
you  suppose  that  any  expenditure  of  patience  would 
have  tortured  it  into  a  good  one?     My  dear  Mary — I 

beg  Mr,  Hoskyn's  pardon " 

"Beg  Mrs.  Herbert's,  rather.  Goon." 
"Mrs.  Herbert  is  a  very  good  example  of  my  next 
heresy,  which  is,  that  earnestness  of  intention,  and 
faith  in  the  higher  mission  of  art,  are  impotent  to  add 
an  inch  to  my  artistic  capacity.  They  rather  produce 
a  mental  stress  fatal  to  all  freedom  of  conception  and 
execution.  I  cannot  bring  them  to  bear  on  drawing 
and  painting:  they  seem  to  me  to  be  more  the  con- 
cern of  clergymen  and  statesmen.  Your  husband  once 
told  my  mother  that  art  was  a  backwater  into  which 
the  soft  chaps  got  to  be  out  of  the  crush  in  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  He  was  thinking  about  me,  I 
suppose — oh,  don't  apologize,  Mary:  I  quite  agree 
with  him.  It  is  a  backwater;  and  faith  and  earnest- 
ness are  of  no  use  in  it:  mere  brute  skill  carries  every- 
thing before  it.  You  once  asked  me  how  I  should  like 
to  be  Titian  and  a  lot  of  other  great  painters  all  rolled 
into  one.  At  present  I  should  be  only  too  glad  to  be 
as  good  as  Titian  alone;  but  I  would  not  pay  five 
years  of  my  life  for  the  privilege:  it  would  not  be 
worth  it.  What  view  did  Titian  take  of  his  mission 
in  life?  Simply  that  he  was  to  paint  pictures  and  sell 
them.     He  painted  religious  pictures  when  the  church 


■')  Love  Among  the  Artists 

paid  him  to  do  it;  he  painted  indecent  pictures  when 
licentious  noblemen  paid  him  to  do  it;  and  he  painted 

'thy   pul  icrally.       Believe 

me,   Mary,   out  in  the  middli         the  stream  of  lif< 
from  the    turbulences    and    vul  ►  of  which    v 

agreed  to  hold  ,  there  may  be  many  di         at  sorts 

men  — <  t  nun,  frivolous        i,  faithful  men,  cyni- 

cal men,  |  men,  men,  and  >rth;  but  for 

the  backwater  thi  >nly  two  paintex 

us    ones    and    m  one        I    am    not    a 

dexterous  md   that   is  all   about  it:   self-criticism 

on  m<»ral    prim  nd    tl 

library  won't  mend  n  f  I  said  that 

Ami''.         was.-.            in   point.  □   the    Times 

ny  that  Yet  if  you  spoke 

her  with  a  gi             t  and  a 

■    tru                      '.  not  v.-  tand  you,  although 

she  has  her  touch  on  the 

ral  fa             SI  •  thinki  r  husband 

a  :  mnd    tl.  e  he  on 

hap]  :*   that   musical  people  were 

e  dul         xwhelmed 

unt  of  this,  thought  I  was 

him  I  ha  m  the       •  rvation 

myself. " 

"Perhaps   she    w  play   still   better  if  she  did 

lo..k   upon   fa  the  hoi  it  gift  and  a 

great  trust " 

"Did  I  paint  tl  I  Shalott  the  better  because 

I  would  have  mixed  the  c  with  my  blood  if  the 

picture  would  hav<         ned  by  my  doing  so?     No:   I 

could   paint   it   twice  as  well   now,  th<  I  should  not 

waste   half     S   much    th         .t  on  it.        tut   put  Aurelie 


Love  Among  the  Artists  387 

out  of  the   question,    since   you    do  not   admire  her. 
Take " 

'  'Oh,  Adrian,  I  ad " 

11 — the  case  of  Jack.  You  will  admit  that  he  is  a 
genius:  he  has  the  inexhaustible  flow  of  ugly  sounds 
which  constitutes  a  composer  a  genius  nowadays.  I 
take  Aurelie's  word  and  yours  that  he  is  a  great 
musician,  in  spite  of  the  evidence  of  my  own  ears. 
Judging  him  as  a  mere  unit  of  society,  he  is  perhaps 
the  most  uncouth  savage  in  London.  Does  he  ever 
think  of  himself  as  having  a  mission,  or  a  gift,  or  a 
trust?" 

"I  am  sure  he  does.  Consider  how  much  he  endured 
formerly  because  he  would  not  write  down  to  the 
level  of  the  popular  taste." 

"Depend  upon  it,  either  he  did  not  get  the  chance 
or  he  could  not.  Mozart,  I  believe,  wrote  ballets  and 
Masses  in  the  Italian  style.  If  Jack  had  Mozart's 
versatility,  he  would,  in  similar  circumstances,  act  just 
as  Mozart  acted.  I  do  not  make  a  virtue  of  never 
having  condescended  to  draw  for  the  illustrated  papers, 
because  if  anyone  had  asked  me  to  do  it,  I  should 
certainly  have  tried,  and  probably  have  failed." 

"Adrian,"  said  Mary,  coming  down  from  the  throne, 
and  approaching  him:  "do  you  know  that  it  gives 
me  great  pain  to  hear  you  talk  in  this  way?  If  there 
was  one  vice  more  than  another  which  I  felt  sure 
could  never  taint  your  nature,  it  was  the  vice  of 
cynicism. ' ' 

"  Yon  reproach  me  with  cynicism!"  he  said,  with  a 
smile,   evidently  enjoying  some  inconsistency  in  her. 
Why  not?" 
There  is,  of  course,  no  reason  why  you  should  not 


1 1 


;vi-  Love  Among  the  Artist 

— except   th  come   to  very  similar 

;rself." 

"Yott  never  made  a  greater  mistake,  Adrian.     My 
faith  in  the  ennobling  power  of  Art,  and  in  the  august 

mission  of  the  artist  I  Ifast  as  it  was  years  ago, 

when  you  first  instilled  it  into  me." 

And  that  faith  lias  never  wavered?*1 
"Never." 

/en  for  a  moment'*' 
I    •     ven  for  a  moment.  " 

ht  shrug  was  his  only  comment     lie  took  up 
his  ]  .  and   I  if  with   it,  with  a  eurious 

n  at  the  conn         t  his  m  >uth. 
"What  do  you  mean,  Adrian?" 
"Nothing.     Nothing." 

11  Y(  '•:  U  •'  d  I  "    lid  than  that.  " 

"I  :i  e  many  th  .:  I  am  not  now." 

"  Y<  >ti  admit  t! 

"Sur 

ange  in  me  that  you  hint  at  is  only  a 
change  in  your  way  of  it  me." 

"Perhai 

A  pause  t  luring  which  he  put  a  few  touches 

on    the    canvas,    and    she    watched    him     in    growing 

uht. 

"Vou  won't  mind  my  working  whilst  you  are  here'" 
he  said,  presently. 

"Adrian:  do  you  remember  that'         n  the  under- 

iff  at  Bonchurch,  when    I   announced   my  falling  off, 
in  principle,  from  the  austerity  of  (mr  worship  of  art?" 

"I  do.     Why  do  you  ask-" 

"I   little   thought,    then,    which  of  us  would  be  the 
first  to  fall  oil  in  practice.      If  a  prophet  had  shewn 


1 1 ' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  389 

you  to  me  as  you  are  now,  contemning  loftiness  of 
purpose  and  renouncing  arduous  work,  I  should  have 
been  at  a  loss  for  words  strong  enough  to  express  my 
repudiation  of  the  forecast." 

"I  cannot  say  that /did  not  suspect  then  who  would 
be  the  first  to  fall  off,"  said  Adrian,  quietly,  though 
his  color  deepened  a  little.  "But  I  should  have  been 
as  sceptical  as  you,  if   your  prophet   had    shewn   me 

you "      He  checked  himself. 

'Well,  Adrian?" 

No.     I  beg  your  pardon :  I  was  going  to  say  some- 
thing I  have  no  right  to  say. ' ' 

'Whatever  it  may  be,  you  think  it:  and  I  have  a 
right  to  hear  it,  so  that  I  may  justify  myself.  How 
could  a  prophet  have  shewn  me  so  as  to  astonish  you?" 

"As  Mrs.  Hoskyn,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her 
steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then  resuming  his  work. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Mary  anxiously,  after  a 
pause. 

"I  told  you  there  was  nothing  to  understand,"  said 
he,  relieved.  "I  meant  that  it  is  odd  in  the  first  place 
that  we  are  both  married,  and  not  to  one  another — I 
suppose  you  don't  mind  my  alluding  to  that.  It  is  still 
odder  that  I  should  be  married  to  Aurelie,  who  knows 
nothing  about  painting.  But  it  is  oddest  that  you 
should  be  married  to  Mr.  Hoskyn,  who  knows  nothing 
about  art  at  all." 

Mary,  understanding  him  well  now,  became  very 
red,  and  for  a  moment  tried  hard  to  keep  back  a  retort 
which  came  to  her  lips.  He  continued  to  paint 
attentively.  Then  she  said  indignantly,  "Do  you 
conclude  that  I  do  not  care  for  my  husband  because  I 
can  still  work  and  think  and  respect  myself — because 


3i  Love  Among  the  Artists 

I  am  not   his   slave  when   he    is  present,  and  a  slave  to 

my  thoughts  of  him  when  he  is  absent'*' 

"Mary!        ^claimed     Herbert,    putting    down    his 

palette    and    confronting    her   with    a   color   as    deep  as 

her  own.     She  stood    her  ground    without  flinching. 
Then  he  recovered  himself,   and  said,   "I  beg  your 
pardon.      I   was    quite    wrong   to   say   anything  about 
or  marriage.     Have  I  annoyed  you?" 

"You  have  let  slip  your  Opinion  of  me,  Adrian." 

"And  you  you:  me,  I  think,  Mary." 

After   this    there     was   another   strained   pause,    dis- 

mcerting  to  both.     This  time  M        gained  her  self- 

^sinn  first.      "I  v  tinoyed  just  now,"  she  said: 

"but  I  did  not  mean  that  we  should  quarrel.  I  hope 
you  did  not. " 

"No,  in  rventl        "I  trust  we  shall 

never   have   any    such     meaning,    whatever    may    pa 
between  u 

"Then,"  she  rejoined,  instinctively  responding  to 
his  emotion  with  an  impulse  of  confession,  "let  me 
tell  yon  candidly  how  far  yon  v  [ght  in  what  you 

id.       I    married    because    I    discovered,    as    you    ha 
that   tin.-    world   is   1  than    /  ind   that   there   is 

plent  t    in    it    for   those    who   do    not    ev- 

know    what    Art    means.  1    I    have   never  been    in 

love  in  the  story-1  ;  and  I  had  given  up  all 

belief  in  the  reality  of  that  fashion  when  I  Last  in  my 
lot  with  John's,  though  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  and  do 
not  at  all  regret  being  Mrs.  Hoskyn." 

"It  is  curious  that  our  courses  of  action  should  be 
so    similar    and    our   motives  different!       My    con- 

fession »  obvious  that  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to 

ke  it.      I    did   fall   in  love  in  the  story-book  fashion: 


Love  Among  the  Artists  391 

and  that  is  the  true  explanation  of  what  the  Times 
notices  in  my  work.  I  will  not  say  that  I  can  no  longer 
work,  think,  or  respect  myself — I  hope  I  am  not  so  bad 
as  that:  but  the  rest  is  true.  I  am  a  slave  to  her  when 
she  is  present,  and  a  slave  to  my  thoughts  of  her 
when  she  is  absent.     Perhaps  you  despise  me  for  it." 

"I  can  hardly  despise  you  for  loving  your  wife.     It 
would  be  rather  unreasonable." 

"There  are  many  things  which  are  not  reasonable, 
and  are  yet  quite  natural.  I  sometimes  despise  my- 
self. That  occurs  when  I  contrast  Aurelie's  influence 
on  my  work  with  yours.  Before  I  met  her,  I  worked 
steadfastly  in  this  studio,  thinking  of  you  whenever 
my  work  palled  on  me,  and  never  failing  to  derive 
fresh  courage  from  you.  I  know  now,  better  than  I 
did  then,  how  much  of  my  first  success,  and  of  the 
resolute  labor  that  won  it,  was  due  to  you.  The  new 
influence  is  a  different — a  disturbing  one.  When  I 
think  of  Aurelie,  there  is  an  end  of  my  work.  Where 
in  the  old  time  I  used  to  be  reinforced  and  concen- 
trated, I  am  now  excited  and  distracted;  impatient  for 
some  vague  to-morrow  that  never  comes;  capable  of 
nothing  but  trouble  or  ecstasy.  Imagine,  then,  how 
I  value  your  friendship — for  you  must  not  think  that 
you  have  lost  your  old  power  over  me.  Even  to-day, 
because  I  have  had  this  opportunity  of  talking  with 
you,  I  feel  more  like  my  old  artist  self  than  I  have 
been  for  a  longtime.  We  understand  each  other:  I 
could  not  say  the  same  to  Aurelie.  Therefore,  Mary, 
will  you — however  ill  I  may  in  your  opinion  have 
deserved  it — will  you  still  stand  my  friend,  and  help 
me  to  regain  the  ground  I  have  lost,  as  you  formerly 
helped  me  to  win  it?" 


)2  Love  Among  the  Artists 

Most  willingly,'  I  Mary  with  enthusiasm,  hold- 
ing out  both  her  hands  to  him.      "I  will  take  your  word 

r  my  ability  to  help  you,  though  I  know  that  you 
used  to  help  yourself  by  helping  me.  Xow  we  are  fast 
frien  fain,  are  we  nol 

"Fast   friend         he  repeated,  taking  her  hands,  and 

turning  her  with   affectionate  admiration   and 

atitude. 

"Aha!"  cried  a  voice.  They  released  each  other's 
hands  quickly,  and  turned,  pale  and  startled,  towards 
the   new   comer.  .    in    a  light   summer  dress, 

was  smiling  at  them  from  the  doorway. 

"I  fear  I  derail  u,"  sh<         1  in  English,  which 

she   now   spoke  easily   and     carelessly,    though    with   a 
ft    f<  t.       "How     do    you     do,     Madame 

Hoskyn?    Am  I  too  much? 

Mary,  confused  by  tin  surprise  of  her  entry,  and  still 
more   by  the   innocent   and  manner  in  which 

slu-  spoke,  murmured  some  wore.  alutation. 

This    is    a    very     unusual    honor,    Aurelie,"    said 

Herb  to  laugh. 

"Yes,  I  did  not  know  ->f  it  beforehand  myself.     I 

t    into    th(  .    train,   and   was   carried   to    South 

Kensington  i         id  of  to  Addison  Road.     So  I  said,  lI 
will  giv  .n  a  surprise.'     And  s<>  I  have." 

"You  came  in  at  an  interesting  moment, "  said  Mar}-, 
wdio  had  now  partly  regained  some  of  her  self- 
DOSSession,  and  all  her  boldnefl  "Mr.  Herbert  and  I 
have  had  a  serious  quarrel;  and  we  are  just  making-  it 
up.  English  fashion. " 

4t0h,  it  is  not  an  English  fashion.  People  quarrel 
like  that  everywhere.  And  you  are  now  greater 
friends  than  ever.      Is  it  not  so?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  393 


it* 
it 


11 
t  f 


I  hope  so,"  said  Mary. 

I  knew  it,"  said  Aurelie,  with  a  wave  of  her  fin- 
gers. "The  human  nature  is  the  same  things 
throughout  the  world.  Ah  yes.  What  an  untidy 
atelier  is  this !  How  can  you  expect  that  great  ladies 
will  come  here  to  sit  for  their  portraits?" 

I  do  not  desire  that  they  should,  Aurelie." 
But  it  is  by  portraits  that  the  English  artists  make 
great  sums  of  money.  Why  do  you  not  cure  him  of 
these  strange  notions,  Madame?  You  have  so  much 
sense;  and  he  respects  you  so.  He  mocks  at  me 
when  I  speak  of  painting:  yet  I  am  sure  I  am  right." 

Mary  smiled  uneasily,  not  knowing  exactly  how  to 
reply.  Aurelie  wandered  about  the  studio,  picking 
up  sketches  and  putting  them  down  without  looking 
at  them;  peeping  into  corners;  and  behaving  like  a 
curious  child.  At  last  her  husband,  seeing  her  about 
to  disturb  a  piece  of  drapery,  cried  out  to  her  to  take 
care. 

"What  is  the  matter  now?"  said  she.  "Is  there 
somebody  behind  it?     Ciell  it  is  a  great  doll." 

"Please  do  not  touch  it,"  he  said.  "I  am  drawing 
from  it ;  and  the  change  of  a  single  fold  will  waste  all 
my  labor. ' ' 

"Yes;  but  that  is  not  fair.  You  should  not  copy 
things  into  your  pictures:  you  should  paint  them  all 
out  of  your  head. "  She  went  over  to  the  easel.  "Is 
this  the  great  work  for  next  year?  Why  has  that  man 
a  bonnet  on?" 

"It  is  not  a  bonnet:  it  is  a  helmet." 

"Ah!  He  is  a  fireman  then.  Tiens!  j^ou  have 
drawn  him  with  long  curling  hair!  There — I  know 
— he  is  a  knight  of  the  round  table :  all  your  knights 


,\  Love   Among   the  Artists 

are  the  Bam  I  what  use  are  such  barbarians?    I 

pr  the    Nibelunga    and    Wotao    and       hor — in 

Wagner's  musi        His  arm   is  a  deal  too 

and  the  little  '  .  1  is  not  half  large  enough  in 

pr<  □  to  his  height,      The  |  hild  is  like  a  man 

in    miniature.      Madai         H        yn :    will    yen   do   me    a 
gr<  IVOr — that  is,  if  you  .  <:"-" 

"I     have     no  nts    to-day,    happily,"    said 

Mary.      UY(  ui  ma  d  me.  " 

l*Th<  ack  with  us  to  our  house, 

ai        ■    y  to  dinner.     Oh,  you  mi:  t  refuse  inc.     A1 

will  send  a  telegram   to    Mr.    }'.  n  tO  001        '    '».       En 

undi  will  -tain   you ; 

I  will  play  for  yon;   and   my  mother  will   shew  yon  the' 

imbiu,         He    i  roll    child — yon    shall    see    if    h< 

not" 
"You  are  very  kind,"  said   Mary,  <  "Mr. 

I  losky:  -'a  him  ;    hut — " 

She  d  inqnirinj  a. 

As     Air  a    by 

tel<         >h.  u  will  come,  M 

Mary  blnsh<        '    his  use  of    her   Christian    nan 

I  bans  y  a, "  &h       id. 

"  I  will  1 1  >me  n 
"Ah,  that  is  very  '.".-■"       apparently 

bted.      "Con*  she  I  in   French  to 

Irian.     "Put         ly  th         tises;    and    let   us   go  at 

" 
"Von  hear?"  he  rem;.  v.         ^he  calls  my 

and    brushes  n.  He  put    them  away 

neverthi  A    i  'lie     chatting    light- 

heartedly    with    Mary,    meanwhil<        When    he   was 
ready,  they  went  out  together  past  the  white  h< 


Love  Among  the  Artists  395 

whose  shadow  was  tending  at  some  length  eastward, 
and  sallied  into  the  Fulham  Road,  where  they  halted 
to  consider  whether  they  should  walk  or  drive, 
Whilst  they  stood,  a  young  man  with  a  serious 
expression,  long  and  curly  fair  hair,  and  a  velveteen 
jacket,  approached  them.  He  was  reading  a  book  as 
he  walked,  taking  no  note  of  the  persons  whom  he 
passed. 

"Why,  here  is  Charlie,"  exclaimed  Mary.  The 
young  man  looked  up,  and  immediately  stopped  and 
shut  his  book,  exhibiting  a  remarkable  degree  of  con- 
fusion. Then,  to  the  surprise  of  his  sister,  he  raised 
his  hat,  and  attempted  to  pass  on. 

"Charlie,"  she  said:  "are  you  going  to  cut  us?"  At 
this  he  stopped  again,  and  stood  looking  at  them 
discomfitedly. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Adrian,  offering  his  hand, 
which  was  eagerly  accepted.  Charlie  now  ventured 
to  glance  at  Aurelie,  becoming  redder  as  he  did  so. 
She  was  waiting  with  perfect  composure  and  apparently 
without  interest  for  the  upshot  of  the  encounter. 

"I  thought  you  knew  Mrs.  Herbert,"  said  Mary, 
puzzled.  "My  brother,  Mrs.  Herbert,"  she  added, 
turning  to  Aurelie. 

Charlie  removed  his  hat  solemnly,  and  received  in 
acknowledgement  what  was  rather  a  droop  of  the 
eyelids  than  a  bow. 

Herbert,  seeing  that  an  awkward  silence  was  likely 
to  ensue,  interposed  goodhumoredly.  "What  is  your 
latest  project?"  he  said.  "If  you  are  an  engineer 
still  your  exterior  is  singularly  unprofessional.  Judg- 
ing by  appearances,  I  should  say  that  I  must  be  the 
engineer  and  you  the  artist." 


6  Love  Among  the  Artists 


> . 


Oh,    I've    given    up    engineering,"   said    Charlie. 

It's  a  mere  trade.  The  fact  is,  I  have  come  round 
at  last  to  your  idea  that  there  is  nothing  like  Art.  I 
have  turned  my  attention  to  literature  of  late." 

etry,  I  presume,"  said  Herbert,  drawing  the 

book  from  beneath  his  arm  and  looking  at  the  title. 

"I  wish  I  had  the  least  scrap  of  genius  to  make  me 
a  poet.  In  any  ease  I  must  give  up  the  vagabond  life 
I  have  been  leading,  and  settle  down  to  some  earnest 
pursuit.  I  may  not  ever  be  able  to  write  a  decent 
book;  but  I  at  least  can  persevere  in  the  study  of  Art 
and  literature  and — and  so   forth." 

"Persevere  in  literature:"  repeated  Mary.  "Oh, 
Charlie!      How   ma:  >vels   and    I  have  you 

begun   since  we  went  to  live   at    B  l?  and   not   one 

of  them  ev<         t  to  the    e     -id  chaptei 

"I  shewed  n:  in  not  finishing  any  of  them. 

What    ha;;  become  of    the  pict'  1    to  work 

hard   a:  1  of   the  I    I  it  ions   that   were   to 

ha\  your  studies  with  Jacl 

"I  think,"  said    Herbert   jocul  .  "that    if  we  wait 

here  until  you  and    Mary  agree  on   the  subject  of  your 
perseverance,  our  dinner   will   be  cold.      Mrs.   Hoskvn 

is  comic         dine  witli  us  thi  j,  Charlie.     Sup- 

pose you  join  us. " 

"Thank  you,"  he  id,  ha  tily:  "I  should  like  it  of 
all  things;  but  I  am  not  dressed;  and " 

"You  can  hardly  |  >se  to  dress  for  dinner  on  my 
account  at  this  late  stage  of  our  acquaintance:  and 
Mrs.   Herbert  will  excuse  you,   I  think." 

"Yon  shall  be  the  welcome,  monsieur,"  said  Aurelie, 
who  had  been  gazing  abstractedly  down  the  vista  at 
the  white  h<>rse. 


Love  Among  the  Artists  397 

44 Thanks,  very  much  indeed,"  said  Charlie.  This 
decided,  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  go  by  train 
to  High  Street,  and  walk  thence  to  Herbert's  lodging: 
for  he  had  never  fulfilled  his  intention  of  taking  a 
house,  his  wife  being  only  nominally  more  at  home  in 
London  than  in  the  other  European  capitals.  They 
accordingly  moved  towards  the  railway  station,  Adrian 
going  first  with  Mary,  and  Charlie  following  with 
Aurelie,  who  seemed  unconscious  of  his  presence, 
although  his  uneasiness,  his  frequent  glances  sidelong 
at  her,  and  his  occasional  dumb  efforts  to  hazard  some 
commonplace  remark,  were  much  more  obvious  than 
he  suspected.  In  this  way  they  came  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  South  Kensington  station  without  having 
exchanged  a  word,  his  dismay  increasing  at  every 
step.  He  stole  another  look  at  her,  and  this  time  met 
her  eye,  which  fixed  him  as  if  it  had  been  that  of  the 
ancient  mariner:  and  the  longer  she  looked,  the 
redder  and  more  disconcerted  he  became. 

"Well  Monsieur  Beatty, "  she  said  composedly. 

He  glanced  apprehensively  at  Adrian,  who  was 
within  earshot.  ' '  I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you, ' '  he 
said:  "but  my  name  is  not  Beatty. " 

"Is  it  possible!  I  beg  your  pardon,  monsieur:  I 
mistook  you  for  a  zhentleman  of  that  name,  whom  I 
met  at  Paris.     You  resemble  him  very  much." 

"No,  I  assure  you,"  said  Charlie  eagerly.  "I  am 
not  in  the  least  like  him.  I  know  the  fellow  you 
mean :  he  was  a  drunken  wretch  whom  you  rescued  from 
being  run  over  or  robbed  in  the  street,  and  who  made 
a  most  miserable  ass  of  himself  in  return.  He  is 
dead. ' ' 

'Jesu  Christ/"  ejaculated  Aurelie  with  an  irrepress- 


1 1 


5 


Love  Among  the  Artists 


ible   start:     "do  not    say  such    thin  What   do   you 

mean 

14 Dead   as   a   doornail,"  said   Charlie,   triumphant  at 

having  sh  composure,  but  still  very  earnest 

"He  was  killed,  scotched,  I  out  of  existence  by 

morse,  and  by  being  unable  to  endure  the  contrast 
en   his   worthlcssness  and  your — your  goods 
If  you   would  t  him,  and   not  think  of   him 

whenev  lifer  a  very  great 

on  me — far  greater  than  I  d       *ve.     Will  you  do 
Mrs.  H 
"I  believi  will  make  great  sti         i  as  a  poet,  "said 

Aure*l  •  him.      "You  are — what;. 

call  cle\  h!     This   und<         und    railway    is  a 

horror. " 

They  said  nothing  more  t  until  they 

left  the  train  at  High  St  m  which  they  walked 

in  th<  Igain  at  a  loss  for 

methi]                 but  no  longer  afraid  1  :k.      His 

firs: 

hop                                              quit  '." 

''hank  y          he    IS       '    te    well.      You  will            her 

pr  ■>'•" 

"V.  I>  she  stay:-  ;•  >U?" 

"Yes.     You  an 

"X«».  I'm  not,"  1.  "How  could   I  be 

id?        he  rem<  that  vagabond  of  whom  we 

were  king.       W  I   I  '• 

Aurelie  shook  her  v.        Truly,  I  do  not 

know,*'  she  replied.      "You  had  better  prepare  for  the 
worst. '" 

"It  is  very  easy  for  you  to  make  a  jest  of  the  affair, 
Mrs.    Herbert.       If    you   had    as    much   cause    to  be 


Love  Among  the  Artists  399 

ashamed  of  meeting  her  as  I  have,  you  would  not 
laugh  at  me.  However,  since  you  have  forgiven  me, 
I  think  she  may  very  well  do  so. ' ' 

Madame  Szczymplica  did,  in  fact,  receive  him  with- 
out betraying  the  slightest  emotion.  She  did  not 
remember  him.  All  her  attention  was  absorbed  by 
other  considerations,  which  led  her  to  draw  her 
daughter  into  a  private  conversation  on  the  stairs 
whilst  their  guests  supposed  her  to  be  fetching  the 
baby. 

"My  child:  have  you  brought  home  dinner  as  well 
as  guests?  What  are  they  to  eat?  Do  you  think  that 
the  proprietress  can  provide  a  double  dinner  at  a 
moment's  notice?" 

"She  must,  viaman.  It  is  very  simple.  Let  her  go 
to  the  shops — to  the  pastrycooks.  Let  her  go 
wherever  she  will,  so  that  the  dinner  be  ready.  Per- 
haps there  is  enough  in  the  house." 

"And  how " 

"There,  there.  She  will  manage  easily.  If  not, 
how  can  I  help  it?  I  know  nothing  about  such  things. 
Go  for  the  bambino;  and  do  not  fret  about  the 
dinner.  All  will  be  well,  depend  upon  it."  And  she 
retreated  quickly  into  the  drawing-room.  Madame 
Szczympliga  raised  her  hands  in  protest;  let  them  fall 
in  resignation  ;  and  went  upstairs,  whence  she  presently 
returned  with  a  small  baby  who  looked  very  sad  and 
old. 

"Behold  it?"  said  Aurelie,  interlacing  her  fingers 
behind  her  back,  and  nodding  from  a  distance  towards 
her  child.  "See  how  solemn  he  looks!  He  is  a  true 
Englishman."  The  baby  uttered  a  plaintive  sound 
and   stretched  out   one  fist.      "Aha!      Knowest  thou 


40  Love  Among  the  Artists 

thy  mother's  voice,  rogue?  Does  he  not  resemble 
Adrian?" 

Mary    took   tin  gently;   kissed    it;     shook    its 

:    culled    it  names;   and    elicited   several 

inarticulate  monstrances      from     it.       Adrian     felt 

ridiculous,  and   ackn  ed   his  condition  by  a  faint 

smi  Charlie  kept  cautiously  aloof.  Mary  was  in 
th  of  handing  the  child  carefully  hack  to  Madame 

vinpliri,  when   Aurelie   interposed  swiftly;   tossed 
it     up   to    the     c  ;     and     caught    it     dexterously. 

Adrian  st<  ard  in  alarm;  Madame  uttered  a 

Polish  exclamation;  and  tin-  baby  itself  growled 
angrily.     Beinj  tcond  time,  it  howled  with 

all  its  n, 

"Now  you  shall  s  Lie,  suddenly  placing 

it,  supine,  kicK  i  iming,  on  the  pianofort 

She  then  '                             adrille  from 

Meyerbeer's  "The    Pro] tint."      The   baby 

immediately    ceased   to   kick;    1  silent;   and    lay 

still      with     the      bland     cxpr  log    being 

atch  having  her  hair  combed. 

"It  has  a  vile    '  n   mr.         '  she  .  when   the 

perform;  i       was .  "I-  '.  fashi        I  in  every- 

thing.      Ah  Monsieur    Sutherland:    woudd   you 

kindly  pass  the  I  one  to  my  mother." 

Madam  tily  ad  I  to  forestall 

Charlie's  compliance  with  tl  u<    t,  made  purposely 

to   embarrass  him.  t    he    lifted    the    baby    very 

.pertly,  and   even  it  a  kiss  before  he  handed  it 

to  the  old  lady,  who  watched  him  as  if  he  were  hand- 
ling a  valuable  piece  of  china. 

"There.  T  .  it  away,"  said  Aurelie.  "You 
would  make  a  good  nurse,  monsi 


Love  Among  the  Artists  401 


i  1 

<  < 

1 « 


What  a  mother!"  whispered  Madame  Szczympliga. 

Poor  infant!"  and  she  indignantly  carried  it  away. 
I  wish  he  would  grow  up  all  at  once, ' '  said  Aurelie. 

By  the  time  he  is  a  man,  I  shall  be  an  old  woman, 
half  deaf,  with  gout  in  my  fingers.  He  will  go  to  hear 
the  new  players,  and  wonder  how  I  got  my  reputation. 
Ah,  it  is  a  stupid  world!  One  may  say  so  before  you, 
madame,  because  you  are  a  philosopher." 

Madame  Szczympliga  soon  returned,  and  was  of 
much  service  in  maintaining  conversation,  as  she  was 
not,  like  the  other  three,  unable  to  avoid  keeping  a 
furtive  watch  on  her  daughter.  At  dinner,  Aurelie, 
when  she  found  that  the  talk  would  go  on  without  her 
help,  said  no  more,  eating  but  little,  and  drinking 
water.  In  her  abstraction,  she  engaged  their  attention 
more  than  ever.  Mary,  trying  to  puzzle  out  the  real 
nature  of  Adrian's  wife,  considered  her  carefully,  but 
vainly.  The  pianist's  character  appeared  as  vaguely 
to  her  mind  as  the  face  did  to  her  short-sighted  eyes. 
Even  Herbert,  though  he  ate  with  the  appetite  of  a 
husband,  often  glanced  along  the  table  with  the 
admiration  of  a  lover.  Charlie  did  not  dare  to  look 
often ;  but  he  sought  for  distorted  images  of  her  face 
in  glass  vessels  and  bowls  of  spoons,  and  gazed  at 
them  instead.  At  last  Mary,  oppressed  by  her  silence, 
determined  to  make  her  speak. 

1  'Is  it  possible  that  you  never  drink  wine?"  she  said: 
"you,  who  work  so  hard!" 

"Never,"  said  Aurelie,  resuming  her  volition 
instantly.  "I  have  in  the  tip  of  every  finger  a  sensa- 
tion of  touch  the  most  subtle,  the  most  delicate,  that 
you  can  conceive.  It  is  a — chose — a  species  of  nervous 
organization.     One  single  glass  of  wine  would  put  all 


4<  Love  Among  the  Artists 

those  little  nerves  to  Bleep.  My  fingers  would  become 
hammers,   like  the  fingers  of   all  the  world;    and   I 

should  be  excited,  and  have  a  great  pleasure  to 
hammer,  as  all  the  world  has.  But  I  could  no  longer 
make  music.  " 

"AureMie  ha  •  narkable  theories  of  what  she  calls 
her  fine  touch,"  said  Herbert.  "Practically,  I  find 
that  when  she  is  in  a  musical  humor,  and  enjoys  her 
own  playing,  she  says  she  has  'found  her  fingers';  but 
when  only  other  peopl-  it,  then  the  touch  is  gone; 

the  fingers  are  like  the  fingers  of  all  the  world;  and  I 
ive  f  -rmal  notice  that  Mdlle.   S  :nplica  is  about 

to  rcti:  ai  the  musical  | 

"Ye   .  yon    are    very    \.  You    have   not    this 

fine  touch;   and   you   do   not   u:  \d.      If   you  had, 

ah,  how  you  would  draw'      You  would  1  *er  than 

no  matter  what  art        in  the  world." 

Mary  burned  with  indignation  at  Aurelie,  knowing 

how  it  hurt  Herbert  I  e  ren            1  that   he  was  not  a 

first-rate   arti   I       Am  indifferent   to  the   effect  of 

her  -           i.  re!  >n  until  they  left  the 

ble,  when   Bh<           ■  if  at    th<                          .   and 

permitted    Charlie  to   engage    her    in    e         nation, 

whilst  Herbert  became  1  by  a  discussion  with 

Mary  on  painti  .  and  Madame  Szczymplica  sat  still 
in  a  corner,  knitting. 

"What'  dd    Aurelie,     when     Charlie    had    been 

speakir.  r  some  time:    "were  you   .it  that  concert 

too?" 

"VeS." 

"Then  you  have  been  at  every  concert  where  I  have 
played  since  I  returned  to  London.  I  )o  you  go  to  all 
concerts  ?" 


Love  Among  the  Artists  403 

"To  all  of  those  at  which  you  play.  Not  to  the 
others. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  understand.  You  pay  me  a  compliment.  I 
am  very — very  recognizant,  do  you  call  it? — of  your 
appreciation." 

"I  am  musical,  you  know.  I  was  to  have  been  a 
musician,  and  had  lessons  from  old  Jack  in  the  noble 
art.     But  I  gave  it  up,  I  am  sorry  to  say." 

"What  presumption!  It  does  not  become  you  to 
speak  of  a  great  man  in  that  fashion,  Monsieur 
Charles." 

"True,  Mrs.  Herbert.  But  then  nobody  minds  what 
I  say. ' ' 

"Tiens/"  said  Aurelie,  with  a  light  laugh.  "You 
are  right.  You  know  how  to  make  everything  gay. 
And  so  you  gave  up  the  music,  and  are  now  to  be  a 
poet.  Can  you  think  of  no  more  suitable  profession 
than  that?" 

"It's  the  only  one  left  to  me,  except  the  army;  and 
that  is  considered  closed  to  me  because  my  brother — 
Phipson's  daughter's  husband,  you  know — is  there 
already.  First  I  was  to  be  a  college  don — a  professor. 
Then  I  took  to  music.  Then  I  tried  the  bar,  the 
medical,  engineering,  the  Indian  civil  service,  and 
got  tired  of  them  all.  In  fact  I  only  drew  the  line  at 
the  church "    . 

"What  is  that?     You  drew  a  line  at  the  church!" 

"It  is  what  you  very  properly  call  an  idiotisme.  I 
mean  that  I  would  not  condescend  to  be  a  parson." 

' '  What  a  philosopher !     Proceed. ' ' 

"I  am  now — if  the  poetry  fails,  which  it  most  likely 
will — going  into  business.  I  shall  try  for  a  post  in 
the  Conolly  Electro-Motor  Company." 


|o.|  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"I  think  that  will  suit  you  best.  I  will  play  you  some- 
thing to  encourage  you. " 

She  '  1  to  play  a  polonaise  by  Chopin.  Herbert 
and    Mar}  1    speaking,   but  presently  resumed 

their  coir.  tion   in  subdued  tone         Charlie  listened 

When  tht  finished,  she  did  not 

but   i  I    on,    looking   at    the    ceiling,    and 

casionall        ancing  at  Charlie'         e. 

'  Aurelic,"  Herbert,  ra        \  his  voice  suddenly: 

"where  are  those   skel  that   Mrs.    Scott   left  here 

last  T  . 

uOh,    I   sc         said    C         e,   in    a   tone  of    strong 

ic    Ct  Herbert,    not 

understanding,  1<         I    inquiring        .t  him.      Aarelie 

k   the   skel  m   her  music  stand;  and 

handed  them      ently  1     M       H    >kyn. 

"  I  am  afraid  a. "  said  Mary, 

ring.       Aurelie  ted   the  a 

in  w    chair    near    the 

adow. 

"I    wish  you'd  .  if  you're   not  tired,  M 

Her1 

She  - 

"It  is  fa  that  I                                        :er  because  my 

sister    has    a  -                       I    with    no  ears  on   it,"   lie 

Wl  not    at    Mary,    but    at 

in.     "  I  .                                           I   in  heaven  when 

- 

they   intern:  u.      I  a   her'         lie 

•uld  have  given  th  f  his  mind." 

"Mr.  Herbert  doc  Monsieur  Jacques 

Monsieur  Jacqv.  n't  like  Mr.  Herbert  either. 

There   is   no  love  lost  between  a.      Adrian    hates 

Jack's  musi   ;  and  Jack  laughs  at  Adrian's  pictures." 


i  1 1 
it' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  405 

"Maman:  ring  the  bell.  Tell  them  to  bring  some 
tea. ' ' 

"Yes,  my  angel." 

"The  conversation  now  became  general  and 
desultory.  Mary,  fearing  that  she  had  already  been 
rudely  inattentive  to  her  hostess,  thought  it  better  not 
to  continue  her  chat  with  Adrian.  "I  see  our  telegram 
is  of  no  avail, "  she  said.  "Mr.  Hoskyn  has  probably 
dined  at  his  club." 

The  more  fool  he,"  said  Charlie,  morosely. 
What  is  that  for?"  said  Mary,  surprised  by  his 
tone.  He  looked  sulkily  at  the  piano,  and  did  not 
reply.  Then  he  stole  a  glance  at  Aurelie,  and  was 
much  put  out  to  find  that  she  was  tendering  him  her 
empty  teacup.  He  took  it,  and  replaced  it  on  the 
table  in  confusion. 

"And  so,"  she  said,  when  he  was  again  seated  near 
her,  "you  have  succeeded  in  none  of  your  professions. " 

This  sudden  return  to  a  dropped  subject  put  him 
out  still  more.     "I — you  mean  my ?" 

"Your  metiers — whatever  you  call  them.  I  am  not 
surprised,  Monsieur  Charles.     You  have  no  patience." 

"I  can  be  patient  enough  when  I  like." 
Do  you  ever  like?" 

Sometimes.     When  you  play,  for  instance,  I  could 
listen  for  a  year  without  getting  tired." 

"You  would  get  very  hungry.  And  I  should  get 
very  tired  of  playing.     Besides " 

A  thud,  followed  by  babyish  screams,  interrupted 
her.  She  listened  for  a  moment,  and  left  the  room, 
followed  by  her  mother.  Mary  and  Adrian,  accustomed 
to  such  incidents,  did  not  stir.  Charlie,  reassured  by 
their  composure,  took  up  the  book  of  sketches. 


1 1 


L<  •  i    Among  the  Artists 

nan,"  said  M         in  a  low  voice:  "do  yon  think 
Mrs.  Herbert  is  annoyed  with  me 

Why'" 
"I  mean,  was  she  annoyed — to-day — in  the  studio?" 
"I   should  not    think  .         N-n<        Why  should  she 
annoyed  with  y 

with  me  particularly.     Bnt  with  both 
of   •  Von  must   kl  I  mean,  Adrian.      I  felt 

in  an  ition  when  she  came  in.     I 

•j     might    be    jealous: 

but " 

":        rare  j  .  Mary,"  he  replied,  with  a  sad 

sir, :  I  wish  she  were.  " 

"You  wish  it!" 

It  would  be  'e.      I  doubt  if  she 

"I  hope  n  thought  it  very  odd; 

and,    of    i  ■•    as    possible 

Inn  Hush!     here    she     is. 

ice  nur              Mrs. 
I  [erbert 

My  m<  'tlur  "  It   is   a 

ry  unlu  1.     [t  is  in:                t<>  find  a  cot  that 

it  i  :  fab.  it  possible 
that  y 

Mary,  who  in            of  I           t's  assurance  was  not 

COmf<  invent-  u:  :e  I     for 

returning  home  at  i  Charlie  had  to  I  with 

her.      He    tried    to    bid     Aurelie     good    night    uncon- 

rnedly,  but  f.  M  rked  t"  Herbert,  who 

ace-  1    them     to     the  r,     that    Charlie    had 

behaved   :  much   1  .ward  a  boy  than 

he  did  now  as  a  man.      Adrian  assented;  let  them  out; 


Love  Among  the  Artists  407 

stood  for  a  moment  to  admire  the  beauty  of  the  even- 
ing; and  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  where  Aurelie 
was  sitting  on  an  ottoman,  apparently  deep  in 
thought. 

"Come!"  he  said  spiritedly:  "does  not  Mrs.  Hoskyn 
improve  on  acquaintance  ?  Is  she  not  a  nice 
woman?" 

Aurelie  looked  at  him  dreamily  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  "Charming." 

"I  knew  you  would  like  her.  That  was  a  happy 
thought  of  yours  to  ask  her  to  dinner.  I  am  very 
glad  you  did. ' ' 

I  owed  you  some  reparation,  Adrian." 

What  for?"  he  said,  instinctively  feeling  damped. 

For  interrupting  your  tete-a-tete. ' ' 

He  laughed.  "Yes,"  he  said.  "But  you  owe  me 
no  reparation  for  that.     You  came  most  opportunely. ' ' 

"That  is  quite  what  I  thought.  Ah,  my  friend,  how 
much  more  I  admire  you  when  you  are  in  love  with 
Mrs.  Hoskyn  than  when  you  are  in  love  with  me! 
You  are  so  much  more  manly  and  thoughtful.  And 
you  abandoned  her  to  marry  me !     What  folly!" 

Adrian  stood  open-mouthed,  not  only  astonished,  but 
anxious  that  she  should  perceive  his  astonishment. 
"Aurelie, "  he  exclaimed:  "is  it  possible — it  is  hardly 
conceivable — that  you  are  jealous?" 

"N — no,"  replied  she,  after  some  consideration.     "I 
do  not  think  I  am  jealous.     Perhaps  Mr.  Hoskyn  will 
be,   if  he  happens  upon  another  tete-a-tete.      But  you 
do  not  fight  in  England,  so  it  does  not  matter. ' ' 
Aurelie:  are  you  serious?" 

Wherefore   should    I   not   be   serious?"    she   said, 
rousing  herself  a  little. 


4oS  Love  Anion;;  the  Artists 

"i  ISC,"      he     ansv  .  ravcly,     "voiir    WOrda 

imply  that  you  have  a  vile  opinion  of  Mrs.   Hoskyn 

and  of  me. " 
"Oh,  no,  ii","  she  said,  carelessly  reassuring  him. 

"I  not  think  that  you  arc  a  wicked  gallant,  like 

:i  Juan.      I  know  you  would  both  think  that  a  great 

aglish  sin.     I  Buspect  you  of  nothing  except  what  I 

when   you  had  her  hands  clasped  in 
yours.      Y<>u  could  not  1         at  me  so." 

"What  do  you  mean-  1  he,  indignantly. 

"I  will   shew   you,"    she   replied   calmly,   i :  ing  and 
him.      "Give  me  your  hands." 

"Aurelie:   this  is  chil " 

"B  >th  your  ha  I !  me. " 

ft    them    as    Bh<  •■.    he   looking"   foolish 

meanwhile.      "N  -aid.  taking   a    Si 

that  they  were  nearly  at   arms   lengl  hold  what  I 

mean.     L  my  i       .  Iced  at  hers,  if  ; 

.."       he  waited;   hut  1.  scd  nothing 

bn1  coni       m.     "  Y  t, "  sh<  tttempting 

to  1         his  han  But  he  r  tightly;  drew 

him;  and  kissed  h<         "Ah,"  she  said, 

did  not  see  that  part 

it.      I  was  only  at   the   d(x>r   for  a  moment   before  I 

"Nonf  .  Aur€li         I  do  not  mean  that   I  kissed 

Mrs.  Hoskyn." 

you  shou'.  When  a  woman  ,^ives  you 

both  her  hands,  that  is  w'  -ts. " 

"But  I  pledge  you  my  word   that  you  are  mistaken. 
We   were    simply  shaking    ha         on   a  bargain:    the 
nest  thing  possi         n  England." 
"A 


Love  Among  the  Artists  409 

An  agreement — a  species  of  arrangement  between 


us." 

« « 


l£/i  bien!  And  what  was  this  agreement  that  called 
such  a  light  into  your  eyes?" 

Adrian,  about  to  reply  confidently,  hesitated  when 
he  realized  the  impression  which  his  words  would 
probably  convey.  "It  is  rather  difficult  to  explain," 
he  began. 

"Then  do  not  explain  it ;  for  it  is  very  easy  to  under- 
stand. I  know.  I  know.  My  poor  Adrian:  you  are 
in  love  without  knowing  it.  Ah!  I  envy  Mrs. 
Hoskyn." 

"If  you  really  mean  that,"  he  said  eagerly,  "I  will 
forgive  you  all  the  rest." 

"I  envy  her  the  power  to  be  in  love,"  rejoined 
Aurelie,  sitting  down  again,  and  speaking  meditatively. 
"I  cannot  love.  I  can  feel  it  in  the  music — in  the 
romance — in  the  poetry;  but  in  real  life — it  is 
impossible.  I  am  fond  of  mennan,  fond  of  the  bam- 
bino,  fond  of  you  sometimes;  but  this  is  not  love — not 
such  love  as  you  used  to  feel  for  me — as  she  feels 
now  for  you.  I  see  people  and  things  too  clearly  to 
love.  Ah  well!  I  must  content  myself  with  the 
music.  It  is  but  a  shadow.  Perhaps  it  is  as  real  as 
love  is,  after  all." 

"In  short,  Aurelie,  you  do  not  love  me,  and  never 
have  loved  me." 

"Not  in  your  way." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before?" 

"Because,  whilst  you  loved  me,  it  would  have 
wounded  you." 

"I  love  you  still;  and  you  know  it.  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  so  before  we  were  married?" 


.jio  Love  Among  the  Artists 

\h,  I  had  forgotten  that.     I  must  have  loved  j 

then.      But    you    were  only   half   real:    I   did   not  know 

n.     What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"You  ask  me  what  is  the   matter,  after — after " 


' '  i 


ind   sit   by  me,  and   be   tranquil.      Yon  are 

mak:  ,  rimaces    like    a   comedian.       I    do   more    for 

u  than  yon  deserve;  for  1  still  cherish  yon  as  my 

husband,  whilst  you  make  bargains,  as  you  call  it,  with 

other   women.  " 

he   said,   sternly:    "there  is  one    course, 
and  only  one,  left  to  us.      We  must  separate." 

ad  for  why?" 
"Because    you     do    not    love    me.      I    suspected    it 
be:  now    I    know   it.       Your   respect    for   me    has 

I  least      et  you  free:    I  owe  that 

much   to   myself.      You   may  not  see   the  necessity  for 
this;   and    I   cannot   make    you   see    it.      None  the  le 

" 

"And  wl.  a  husband?     Do  you  for- 

•   ;.              ity   to  m<            '.    to   my  child?      Well,  it   does 
t     matt           G          Hut     look     you,     Adrian,     if     you 
your   home   only  to   draw   that   woman    away 
from  h<             will  bean  infamy — one  that  will  estran. 
m<                                     r.      I><>  not  hope,  when  you  tire  of 
her — for   one    tires  of   all           .ouneed   people,  and  she, 
in              and    chaj      '          is    very    pronounced — do     not 
h<.pe  tl.                        le  you]          with  m         You  may  be 
weak  and    foolish  if   you    will;   but   when    you  cease   to 
be  a  man  of  honor,  y<              no  1          r  my  Adrian." 
"And  how,  in  heaven's   name,  shall    I    be   the  worse 
r  that,  since  already  I  am  no  longer  your  Adrian? 
You  ha  me  that  vou  never  cared  for  me " 

- 

"Chut!      I  tell  thee  that  I   am  not  of  a  nature  to  fall 


Love  Among  the  Artists  411 

in  love.  Be  calm ;  and  do  not  talk  of  separation,  and 
such  silly  things.  Have  I  not  been  good  to  her  and 
to  you  this  day?" 

"Upon  my  soul,"  cried  Adrian  despairingly,  "I 
believe  you  are  either  mad  or  anxious  to  make  me 
mad." 

"He  is  swearing!"  she  ejaculated,  lifting  her  hands. 

"I  am  not  in  love  with  Mary,"  he  continued.  "It 
is  a  gross  and  absurd  libel  on  both  of  us  to  say  so.  If 
anyone  be  to  blame,  you  are — yes,  you,  Aurelie.  You 
have  put  the  vilest  construction  on  a  perfectly  inno- 
cent action  of  mine;  and  now  you  tell  me  with  the 
most  cynical  coolness  that  you  do  not  care  for  me. ' ' 

Aurelie,  implying  by  a  little  shrug  that  she  gave 
him  up,  rose  and  went  to  the  piano.  The  moment 
her  fingers  touched  the  keys,  she  seemed  to  forget 
him.  But  she  stopped  presently,  and  said  with  grave 
surprise,  "  What  did  you  say,  Adrian?" 

"Nothing,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"Nothing!"  she  repeated  incredulously. 

"Nothing  that  was  intended  for  your  ears.  Since 
you  overheard  me,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  do  not  often 
offend  you  with  such  language ;  but  to-night  I  do  say 
with  all  my  soul  '  Damn  that  pianoforte. '  ' ' 

"Without  doubt  you  have  often  said  so  before  under 
your  breath,"  said  Aurelie,  closing  the  instrument 
quietly. 

"Are  you  going?"  he  said  anxiously,  as  she  moved 
toward  the  door.  "No,"  he  exclaimed,  springing 
forward,  and  timidly  putting  his  arm  about  her,  "I 
did  not  mean  that  I  disliked  your  playing.  I  only 
hate  the  piano  when  you  make  me  jealous  of  it — when 
you  go  to  it  to  forget  me." 


1 12  Love  Among  the  Artists 


i  > 


It    does    not     matter.     Be    tranquil.     I    am    not 
offended,"    she    said    coldly,     trying    to    disengage 

herself. 

"You  are  in  e.     Pray  d<>  not  be  so  quick 

to " 

Adriai         m  are  worrying  me — you  will  make  me 

cry;   and  then  I  r   forgive  you.      Let  me 

At  the  threat  of  crying  he  re         d  her,  and  stood 

at  her. 
"You   should   nut   make  scenes   with   me,"  she    said 

plaintively.     "Where  is  my  handkerchief?    I  had  it  a 
at  ago." 

"Here  it  is,  m  1  humbly,  picking  it 

from   the    floor    where    it   fa  >k   it 

without  thanking  him.     Then,  glancing  petulantly  at 

him,     and     se<_.-         him  .n^\     wistful,     she 

ted  "lit  her  arms  for  18. 

"  '■'    :  '  she  wl  ly,  as  she  rested 

her  Inst  hi 

he  •  fervently,  and  clasped  her 

with  a  shudd  ght  to  his  breast. 


CHAPTER   IV 

Early  in  the  afernoon  of  the  following  day,  which  was 
Sunday,  Charlie  Sutherland  presented  himself  at 
Church  Street,  Kensington,  and  asked  Mrs.  Simpson 
who  opened  the  door,  if  Mr.  Jack  was  within. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  gravely.  "He  is  not 
in  just  at  present." 

On  being  pressed  as  to  when  he  would  be  in,  Mrs. 
Simpson  became  vague  and  evasive,  although  she 
expressed  sympathy  for  the  evident  disappointment  of 
the  visitor.  At  last  he  said  he  would  probably  call 
again,  and  turned  disconsolately  away.  He  had  not 
gone  far  when,  hearing  a  shout,  he  looked  back,  and 
saw  Jack,  uncombed,  unshaven,  in  broken  slippers, 
and  a  stained  and  tattered  coat,  running  after  him, 
bareheaded. 

"Come  up — come  back,"  cried  Jack,  his  brazen 
tones  somewhat  forced  by  loss  of  breath.  "It's  all  a 
mistake.  That  jade — come  along."  He  seized 
Charlie  by  the  arm,  and  began  to  drag  him  back  to 
the  house  as  he  spoke.  The  boys  of  the  neighbor- 
hood soon  assembled  to  look  with  awe  at  the  capture  of 
Charlie,  only  a  few  of  the  older  and  less  reverent 
venturing  to  ridicule  the  scene  by  a  derisive  cheer. 
Jack  marched  his  visitor  upstairs  to  a  large  room, 
which  occupied  nearly  the  whole  of  the  first  floor.  A 
grand  pianoforte  in  the  centre  was  covered  with  writing 
materials,  music  in  print  and  manuscript,  old  news- 

413 


,;i.|  Love  Among  the  Artists 

papers,  and  unwashed  o         cups.     The  surrounding 

LTpet    was    in    such    B   Btate  a9  to    make   it  appear  that 

eriodically,  when  the  litter  became  too  cumbrous,  it 

was  swept  away  and   permitted   to  lie  on   the  floor  just 
it  chanced  to  fall.     The   chairs,   the   cushions  of 
which   seemed   to   have   been  mueh  used  as  penwipers, 
were  OCCUpii  >me  with  heaps  of  cl  >thes,  others  with 

1)'  turned   in  out   to   mark   the   place  at   which 

the    reader   had  put   them    d  ue    with  a  boot,  the 

fellow   of   which    lay    in    the    fender,    and   one    with    a 
kettle,  which   had   been  recently  lifted  from  the 
fire  which,  in   spite  of  the  urnt  in  the  -rate. 

Black,  brown  and  yellow  st  >f  ink,  c  ,  and  yolk 

of  I  were  or.  ::i  the 

"Sit  down,"  said  Jack,  impetu        ■•  thrusting   his 

former  pupil  int<>  t1  ipty  chair,  a  comfortable 

e  with  el'  hiny  with  nt  u»       He  then 

at    for    himself,    and     in    BO   doin  ame 

av.  '  [re,  Simps<  m,  who  had  come 

in  during  his   absence  with  the  hopeless  project  of 

making  the  room  r    i  r  the  v: 

"Here,"  he  me  more  c         .  and  some 

buttered   r  W  have   you   taken  all   the  chain 

It'".  not  1     I    ich  anything  in  this — why, 

what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  putting  the  kettle  down 
a  chair?" 
MNot  likely,  Mr.   Jack         tid  the  land!  "that  I 

ich   a   thing.  I    one   of  my 

hairs  too.      It's  I 

uYou  must  have  done  it:  there-  was  nobody  else  in 
the  room.  off;  an  I  the  coffe< 

"I   did   not  do   it,"  said    M  Simpson,    raising   her 

voice;    "and    well   you    know   it.       And    I    would    be 


Love  Among  the  Artists  415 

thankful  to  you  to  make  up  your  mind  whether  you  are 
to  be  in  or  out  when  people  call,  and  not  be  making 
a  liar  of  me  as  you  did  before  this  gentleman. " 

"You  are  a  liar  ready  made,  and  a  slattern  to  boot," 
retorted  Jack.     "Look  at  the  state  of  this  room." 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  with  a  sniff.  "Look  at 
it  indeed.  I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,"  she  added,  turning 
to  Charlie,  "but  what  would  anybody  think  of  me  if 
they  was  told  that  this  was  my  drawing-room?" 

Jack,  his  attention  thus  recalled  to  his  guest, 
checked  himself  on  the  verge  of  a  fresh  outburst,  and 
pointed  to  the  door.  Mrs.  Simpson  looked  at  him 
scornfully,  but  went  out  without  further  ado.  Jack 
then  seized  a  chair  by  the  back,  shook  its  contents  on 
to  the  floor,  and  sat  down  near  Charlie. 

"I  should  not  have  spoken  as  I  did  just  now,"  he 
said,  with  compunction.  "Let  me  give  you  a  word  of 
advice,  Charles.  Never  live  in  the  house  with  an 
untidy  woman." 

"It  must  be  an  awful  nuisance,  Mr.  Jack." 

"It  is  sure  to  lead  to  bad  habits  in  yourself.  How 
is  your  sister,  and  your  father?" 

"Mary  is  just  the  same  as  ever;  and  so  is  the 
governor.  I  was  with  him  at  Birmingham  last  autumn. 
We  heard  the  Prometheus.  By  Jove,  Mr.  Jack,  that 
is  something  to  listen  to !  The  St.  Matthew  Passion, 
the  Ninth  Symphony,  and  the  Nibelung's  Ring,  are 
the  only  works  that  are  fit  to  be  put  behind  it.  The 
overture  alone  is  something  screeching." 

"You  like  it?  That's  right,  that's  right.  And  what 
are  you  doing  at  present?     Working  hard,  eh?" 

"The  old  story,  Mr.  Jack.  I  have  failed  in  every- 
thing just  as  I  failed  at  the  music,  though  I  stuck  to 


4 1 6  Love  Among  the  Artists 

that   better   than   any  of  the   rest,  whilst    I   had  you  to 

help  me. " 
"You  began   everything    too  young.      No  matter. 

There  is  plenty  of  time  yet.  Well,  well.  What's  the 
news 

14 I'm  going  to  an  at-home  at  Madge  Lancaster's — 
the  actress,  you  know.  She  made  me  promise  I'd  call 
on  my  way  and  mention  casually  where  I  was  going. 
She  thought  that  you  d  perhaps  come  with  me — at 
least  I  expect  that  was  her  game." 

.sked   me   to  come   some  Sunday;  and   I  told 
her  I  would.     I  i  this  Sunday?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Jack,  [hope  you  won't  think  it  cool  of 
me  helping  her  t<>  collar  you  in  this  way." 

Jack  made  s>  >me  inarticulate  reply;  pulled  his  coat 
off;   and  began  to  t:.  out  the   clothes  which  were 

I     iped  on  the  chairs.     Presently    he    rang  the    bell 

furiously,  and,  after  v.  i  rot  twenty  seconds  for 

a    response,    went    to   th<  >r  and   shouted  Mrs. 

Sin  .  in  a  Stunning  voi  This  had  no  more  effect 

than  the  bell;   and  he  returned,  muttering  execrations, 

to  resume  his  rch.  When  he  had  led  consider- 
able to  the  d  m,  Mi       impson  entered 

with  ostentatious  unconcern,  carrying  a  tray  with 
cof:  Lis. 

"Where  would  you  wish  me  to  put  these  things, 
sir?"  she  said  with  a  |  .r'ter  looking  in  vain 

for  a  vacant  space  on  tlu 

"What   thin:  What  >U    mean    by    bringing 

them?     Who  them? 

"You   did,    Mr     Ja  a  you   would  like  to 

deny  it  to  this  gentleman's   t  ..'.;>  heard  you  give 

the  order.*' 


Love  Among  the  Artists  417 

"Oh!"  said  Jack,  discomfited.  "Charles:  will  you 
take  some  coffee  whilst  I  am  dressing.  Put  the  tray 
on  the  floor  if  you  can't  find  room  for  it  elsewhere. " 

Mrs.  Simpson  immediately  placed  it  at  Charlie's 
feet. 

"Now,"  said  Jack,  looking  malignantly  at  her,  "be 
so  good  at  to  find  my  coat  for  me;  and  in  future, 
when  I  leave  it  in  a  particular  place,  don't  take  it 
away  from  there. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir.  And  where  did  you  leave  it  last,  if  I 
may  make  bold  to  ask?" 

"I  left  it  on  that  chair,"  said  Jack  violently.  "Do 
you  see?     On  that  chair." 

Indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  with  open  scorn. 
You  gave  it  out  to  me  yesterday  to  brush;  and  a  nice 
job  I  have  had  with  it:  it  took  a  whole  bottle  of 
benzine  to  fetch  out  the  stains.  It's  upstairs  in  your 
room;  and  I  beg  you  will  be  more  careful  with  it  in 
future,  or  else  send  it  to  the  dyers  to  be  cleaned  instead 
of  to  me.     Shall  I  bring  it  to  you?" 

"No.  Go  to  the — go  to  the  kitchen;  and  hold  your 
tongue.  Charlie :  I  shall  be  back  presently,  my  boy, 
if  you  will  wait.  And  take  some  coffee.  Put  the  tray 
anywhere.  Confound  that — that — that — that  woman. ' ' 
He  left  the  room  then,  and  after  some  time  reappeared 
in  a  clean  shirt  and  a  comparatively  respectable  black 
frock  coat. 

"Where  does  she  live?"  he  said. 

"In  the  Marylebone  Road.  Her  at-homes  are  great 
fun.  Her  sisters  don't  consider  it  proper  for  a  young 
unmarried  woman  to  give  at-homes  on  her  own  hook ; 
and  so  they  never  go.  I  believe  they  would  cut  her 
altogether,  only  they  can't  afford  to,  because  she  gives 


418  Love  Among  the  Artists 

them  a  new  dress  occasionally.      It  will  be  a  regular 
sv.  to   go   in  with  yen.      Next  to  heir,. 

lebrity  oneself ,  the  best  thing  is  to  know  p  celebrity." 

Jack  only  grunted,  and  allowed  Charlie  to  talk  until 

they  arrived   at   the   house   in   the   Marylebone    Road. 
The  |  ened   '  ir1  in  a  neat  dress  of  dark 

green,  with  a  n.  ire  mob  cap  on  her  head. 

"I    feel   half  inclined  to  ask  her   for  a  programme, 
and    tip   her  ,"    whispered    Charlie,    as    th< 

followed  her  n ;  s.      "We   may  consider  that  she  is 

aducting  us  to  i  ^.      Mr.  Jack  and  Mr.  Charles 

Sutherland,"    he  aloud     to    the    girl    as    th 

reached  the  landing. 

Mr.  Snti  d   Mr.  Charles  Sutb  die 

answered,  coldly  i  ting  him. 

k    meanwhile    had    advanced    to    where     Madge 
st"  >rc  a    In  '  luc  \  ' .  made  in 

Venetian  style  imil   I  icse. 

Round  her  neck  was  a  threefold  I  mber  beads; 

d  she   was  shod   with  t  the  same  hue  and 

material  as  her         s.     II  mplexion,  skilfully  put 

on,   did  n  harlie,    but   :  r  inspired  him 

with     a  ret    that    it    w  "to    be 

nine.     The   arrangement  of    the    roon       was    as 

remarkable  as  the  the   hosl  The   fold- 

in;  had  '.  and   the   partition    built 

into   an    arch    with    a    white    pillar    at   each    side.       A 
curtain   of  silvery   plush    was   gat:  I  one  of 

this  arch.     The   walls   v  paint-  '.icate  sheeny 

:    and    the  pet     I  I     piece     of    thick 

whitey-brown  r.      The    chairs    of     unvarnished 

wood,  had   rush    seats,  Ise   cushions  of  dull  straw 

color  or   cinnamon.      In   compliance    with   a   freak   of 


Love  Among  the  Artists  419 

fashion  which  prevailed  just  then,  there  were  no  less 
than  eight  lamps  distributed  about  the  apartments. 
These  lamps  had  monstrous  stems  of  pottery  ware, 
gnarled  and  uncouth  in  design.  Most  of  them  repre- 
sented masses  of  rock  with  strings  of  ivy  leaves  cling- 
ing to  them.     The  ceiling  was  of  a  light  maize  color. 

Magdalen,  surprised  by  the  announcement  of  Mr. 
Sutherland,  was  looking  towards  the  door  for  him 
over  the  head  of  Jack,  than  whom  she  was  nearly 
a  head  taller. 

"How  d'ye  do?"  he  said,  startling  her  with  his 
brassy  voice. 

"My  dear  master,"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  pure,  dis- 
tinct tone  to  which  she  owed  much  of  her  success  on 
the  stage.     "So  you  have  come  to  me  at  last." 

"Aye,  I  have  come  at  last,"  he  said,  with  a  sus- 
picious look.     * '  I  forgot  all  about  you ;  but  I  was  put 

in  mind   of    your    invitation    by    Charles where's 

Charles?" 

Charles  was  behind  him,  waiting  to  be  received. 

"I  am  deeply  grateful  to  you,"  said  Magdalen, 
pressing  his  hand.  Charles,  rather  embarrassed  than 
gratified,  replied  inarticulately;  vouched  for  the 
health  of  his  family;  and  retreated  into  the  crowd. 

"I  had  ceased  to  hope  that  we  should  ever  meet 
again,"  she  said,  turning  again  to  Jack.  "I  have 
sent  you  box  after  box  that  you  might  see  your  old 
pupil  in  her  best  parts ;  but  when  the  nights  came,  the 
boxes  were  empty  always." 

"I  intended  to  go — I  should  have  gone.  But  some- 
how I  forgot  the  time,  or  lost  the  tickets,  or  some- 
thing. My  landlady  mislays  things  of  that,  sort;  or 
very  likely  she  burns  them." 


.\2o  Love  Among  the  Artists 


P     r  Mrs.  Simpson!     II<»w  is  Bhe?" 

nd  mischii  ind  long  tongued  as  ever. 

I  must   leave   that  p  I   can   stand  her  no  longer. 

Her  b!  .  her  stupidity,  and  her  disregard  of 

truth  ond  be". 

"Dear,  m  very  sorry  to  hear  that,  Mr.  Jack." 

Magdalen  tU  es  upon  him  with  an  expres- 

rnest  sympathy  which  had  cost  her  much 
ierfe  who  seldom  recollected  that 

the   su1  '     Mr-  :i's   f  is    not    so 

the  world  as  to  himself,  thought 

Magdalen's  c<  ncern    '         i  means  overstrained,   and 

was  about  •  eonl  tic  discomfort,  when 

the  servant  am 

Jack  slip]  Id  enemy  advanced,  as 

Bprncelydi  a  litt'.              uncertain  in 

his  movemei          M  ith  graceful 

tor  ei 

impei  week. 

When  1                          d  mi  I  with  the  crowd  like 

any  other  visit  I  him,  and  looked  rotu 

k.                ,  in  spite  of  hi  apt  to  av 

Mr.  Br  ith  him  in 

■    whither  «  had  led  them  both. 

I  him  id. 

"lb  w  •           :i  with  nervous 

ha^  •        "Glad  to—1  am  si  i  he  f          hiseye- 

tnd  w  atari 

:   "I   am   an   ill-mannered  man  on 
occasion;  but  |  rlook  that  and  allow 

me  to  claim  your   , 

"Sir, "'    replied    Brailsford,   tremulously  clasping  his 
proffered  hand:   "I  have  always  honored  and  admired 


Love  Among  the  Artists  421 

men  of  genius,  and  protested  against  the  infamous 
oppression  to  which  the  world  subjects  them.  You 
may  count  upon  me  always." 

"There  was  a  time,"  said  Jack,  with  a  glance  at  the 
maize-colored  ceiling,  "when  neither  of  us  would  have 
believed  that  we  should  come  to  make  two  in  a  crowd 
of  fashionable  celebrities  sitting  round  her  footstool." 

"She  has  made  a  proud  position  for  herself, 
certainly.  Thanks,  as  she  always  acknowledges,  above 
all  things  to  your  guidance." 

"Humph,"  said  Jack  doubtfully.  "I  taught  her  to 
make  the  best  of  such  vowels  as  there  are  left  in  our 
spoken  language ;  but  her  furniture  and  her  receptions 
are  her  own  idea." 

"They  are  the  most  ridiculous  absurdities  in  Lon- 
don," whispered  Brailsford  with  sudden  warmth.  "To 
you,  sir,  I  express  my  opinion  without  reserve.  I 
come  here  because  my  presence  may  give  a  certain 
tone — a  sanction — you  understand  me?"  Jack  nodded. 
"But  I  do  not  approve  of  such  entertainments.  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  comprehend  how  the  actress  can  so  far 
forget  the  lady.  This  room  is  not  respectable,  Mr. 
Jack :  it  is  an  outrage  on  taste  and  sensibilty.  How- 
ever, it  is  not  my  choice :  it  is  hers ;  and  de  gustibus 
non  est  disputandum.  You  will  excuse  my  quoting 
my  old  school  books.  I  never  did  so,  sir,  in  my 
youth,  when  every  fool's  mouth  was  full  of  scraps  of 
Latin." 

"There  is  a  bad  side  to  this  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Jack.  "These  fellows  waste  their  time  coming  here ; 
and  she  wastes  her  money  on  extravagancies  for  them 
to  talk  about.  But  after  all,  there  is  a  bad  side  to 
everything:    she  might    indulge   herself   with    worse 


4-  Love  Among  the  Artists 

follii  NOW   that   she   is   her  own   mistress,  we  must 

all  stand  further  off.  Her  affairs  are  not  our 
business. " 

The    ol  entleman     nodded    several     times    in    a 

melancholy  manner.  "There  you  have  hit  the  truth, 
sir,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "We  must  all  stand 
further  oil — I  as  well  as  others.  A  very  just 
observation. " 

This  dialogue,  exceptionally  long  for  a  crowded 
afternoon  reception  in  London,  was  interrupted  by 
Magdalen  coming  to  invite  Jack  to  play,  which  he 
nptorily  n  1  to  do,  remarking  that  if  the  com- 

pany were  in  a  humor  to  listen  to  music,  they  had  better 
.    i  to  church.      The  rebut!  d  much   disappoint- 

ment; for  Jack's  appearances  in  i  rnunoo 

they  had   been   during  the  ich  preceded  the 

fir^t                     ace  of  Pf         -.hens,  had  been  very 

t    his    <  and     inaccessible 

solitude   had   ]  'iith   I          >uth  until  th< 

ha                           stale  t<  or  too  e:       aerated  to 

be   believed.      H  I   considered 

el:                                                   '  Lthdrew  at  once 

in            r   that   they  might   be  the   first   to   narrate   the 

circumstances   in   artistic  ci  -,  which   are  more  "at 

home*'    on    Sundays  than   tl  more  purely 

fashionab'  which    '  particular  to  do 

on  week  days.      Jack  w  >Ut  to  go  himself  when  the 

blue    velvet    si  'Uched   his   arm,    and    Magdalen 

whi      red: 

"They  will  all  go  in  a  v  •  minutes  now.      Will 

you  stay  and  let  me  have  a  moment  with  you  alone? 
It  is  so  long  since  I  have  had  a  word  of  advice  from 
you." 


Love  Among  the  Artists  423 

Jack  again  looked  suspiciously  at  her;  but  as  she 
looked  very  pretty,  he  relented,  saying  good  humoredly , 
"Get  rid  of  them  quickly,  then.  I  have  no  time  to 
waste  waiting  for  them." 

She  set  herself  to  get  rid  of  them  as  well  as  she 
could,  by  pretending  to  mistake  the  purpose  of  men 
who  came  up  to  converse  with  her,  and  surprising 
them  with  effusive  farewells.  To  certain  guests  with 
whom  she  did  not  stand  on  ceremony  she  confided  her 
desire  to  clear  the  room;  and  they  immediately  con- 
veyed her  wishes  to  their  intimate  friends,  besides 
setting  an  example  to  others  by  taking  leave  osten- 
tatiously, or  declaring  in  loud  whispers  that  it  was 
shamefully  late;  that  dear  Madge  must  be  tired  to 
death ;  and  that  they  were  full  of  remorse  at  having 
been  induced  by  her  delightful  hospitality  to  stay  so 
long.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  company  was  reduced 
to  five  or  six  persons,  who  seemed  to  think,  now  that 
the  crowd  was  over,  that  the  time  had  come  for  enjoy- 
ing themselves.  A  few  of  them,  who  knew  each 
other,  relaxed  their  ceremonious  bearing;  raised  their 
voices;  and  entered  into  a  discussion  on  theatrical 
topics  in  which  they  evidently  expected  Magdalen  to 
join.  The  rest  wandered  about  the  rooms,  and  made 
the  most  of  their  opportunity  of  having  a  good  look 
at  the  great  actress  and  the  great  composer,  who  was 
standing  at  a  window  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him,  frowning  unapproachably.  Mr.  Brailsford  also 
remained;  and  he  was  the  first  to  notice  the  air  of 
exhaustion  with  which  his  daughter  was  mutely 
appealing  to  her  superfluous  guests. 

"My  child,"  he  said:  "are  you  fatigued?" 

"I  am  worn  out,"  she  replied,  in  a  whisper  which 


.\ 2. \  Love  Among  the  Artists 

:hed    the    furthest   corner   of    the   room.      "How    I 

long  to  I         me!" 

"Why  did    you   not  tell   me  so  bef<  said    I'.rails- 

ford,  tided.  "I  shall  not  trouble  you  any  Longer, 
Mag  '  Sood  evening. " 

"Hush,"   she   said,    laying  her  arm  caressingly    on 

his,    and    speaking   this   time   in   a  real   whisper.       "I 

meant  that  for  the  other      I  want  you  to  do  something 

forme.  Mr.  Jack  is  waiting  to  go  with  you;  and  I 
particularly  want  to  speak  to  him  alone — about  a 
pupil.  Could  you  slip  away  without  his  seeing  you? 
D  .     I   at  My;   for   I    may   never    h.  another 

chan<  catching  him  in  a  good  humor."     Magdalen 

knew   that  her   father  would   be   jealous  of  having  to 

leave   before   Jack    I  -  she   could    contrive   to  make 

him   do  so  of  his  own  rd     The  stratagem  suc- 

ce«  Mr.   Bra         rd  left  the  room  with  precaution, 

lancin  snsivi  t  tl  in,   who  still 

■lid  back   view   to   the   company.      The 

talkers,    warned     by     Mat":  penctrati: 

whisper,  subn       rely  followed  him,  leaving  only  one 

young  man   who  was  air  I         >.  and  did  not  know 

how  to   do   it.  relieved   him   by   giving  him   her 

hand,  and   ex]  that   she  should  see  him 

n<     '  V.      He   promised   earnestly,  and  departed. 

Xo\v.  1    jack,  wheeling  round   the   instant  the 

door  closed.  "What  can  I  do  for  you?  Your  few 
minutes  hav  :n  the  ves  out  to  twenty." 

"Did  they  seem  so  very  long?"  she  said,  seating 
herself  upon  an  ottoman  and  throwing  her  dress  into 
eful  foul-. 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  bluntly. 

"So  they  did  to  me.      Won't  you  sit  down?" 


I  ( I 


t  i 


Love  Among  the  Artists  425 

Jack  pushed  an  oaken  stool  opposite  to  her  with  his 
foot,  and  sat  upon  it,  much  as,  in  a  Scandinavian 
story,  a  dwarf  might  have  sat  at  the  feet  of  a  princess. 
"Well,  mistress,"  he  said.  "Things  have  changed 
since  I  taught  you.  Eh?" 
Some  things  have." 

You  have   become    great;    and   so — in   my   small 
way — have  I." 

/  have  become  what  you    call  great,"   she  said. 
But  you  have  not  changed.     People  have  found  out 
your  greatness,  that  is  all. ' ' 

"Well  said,"  said  Jack,  approvingly.  "They 
starved  me  long  enough  first,  damn  them.  Used  I  to 
swear  at  you  when  I  was  teaching  you?" 

"I  think  you  used  to.  Just  a  little,  when  I  was  very 
dull." 

"It  is  a  bad  habit — a  stupid  one,  as  all  low  habits 
are.  I  rarely  fall  into  it.  And  so  you  stuck  to  your 
work,  and  fought  your  way.  That  was  right.  Are 
you  as  fond  of  the  stage  as  ever?" 

"It  is  my  profession,"  said  Madge,  with  a  disparag- 
ing shrug.  "One's  profession  is  only  half  of  one's 
life.  Acting  in  London,  where  the  same  play  runs 
for  a  whole  season,  leaves  one  time  to  think  of  other 
things. ' ' 

Sundays  at  home,  and  fine  furniture,  for  instance." 
Things  that  they  vainly  pretend  to  supply.  I  have 
told  you  that  my  profession  is  only  half  my  life — the 
public  half.  Now  that  I  have  established  that  firmly, 
I  begin  to  find  that  the  private  and  personal  half,  the 
half  which  is  concerned  with  home  and — and  domestic 
ties,  must  be  well  established  too,  or  else  the  life 
remains  incomplete,  and  the  heart  unsatisfied." 


426  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"In  plain    English,  you    have   too   much    leistu 

which    you    can     employ    no    better    than    in    grum- 
bling. " 

"Perhaps  s<>;  but  am  I  much  at  fault?  When  I 
entered  upon  my  profession,  its  difficulties  so  filled  my 
mind  with  hopes  and  Tears,  and  its  actual  work  so  fully 
occupied  my  time,  that  I  forgot  every  other  con- 
side:  ,  and  cut  myself  off  from  my  family  and 
friends  with  as  little  hesitation  as  a  child  might  feel  in 
exchanging  an  estate  for  a  plaything.  Now  that  the 
difficulties    are    overcome,    the     hopes    fulfilled    (or 

ned)  and  the  fears  dispelled — now  that  I  find 
that  my  pi  I  sion  does  not  suffice  to  fill  my  life,  and 
that  I  have  not  only  time,  hut  desire,  for  other 
interests,    I    find   how    thought  I   was    when    I   ran 

away  from  all  the  affection  I  had  unwittingly  gathered 

t<  i  myself  as  r  grew.  " 

"Why?  What  have  you  lost*  You  have  your  family 
still." 

"I  am  ipletely  estranged  from  them  by  my 

pr  LOU    as    if    it    had     transported    me     to     another 

•  rid." 

"I  doubt  if  they  are  any  great  loss  to  you.  The 
publii  fond  of  you,  ain't  they?" 

"They  pay  me  to  ]  e  them.  If  I  disappeared, 
they  would  I  I  me  in  a  week." 

"Why  shouldn't  they?  I  low  long  do  yon  think  they 
should  wear  mourning  for  you?  Have  you  made  no 
friends  in  your  own  way  of  life?" 

"Friends5      Yes,  I  suppose  so.  " 

"You  suppose  so!  What  is  the  matter,  then?  What 
more  do  you  want5" 

Magdalen   raised    her    eyelids  for  an   instant,    and 


Love  Among  the  Artists  427 

looked  at  him.  Then  she  said,  "Nothing,"  and  let  the 
lids  fall  with  the  cadence  of  her  voice. 

"Listen  tome,"  said  Jack,  after  a  pause,  drawing 
his  seat  nearer  to  her,  and  watching  her  keenly. 
"You  want  to  be  romantic.  You  won't  succeed. 
Look  at  the  way  we  cling  to  the  stage,  to  music,  and 
poetry,  and  so  forth.  Why  do  you  think  we  do  that? 
Just  because  we  long  to  be  romantic,  and  when  we  try 
it  in  real  life,  facts  and  duties  baffle  us  at  every  turn. 
Men  who  write  plays  for  you  to  act,  cook  up  the  facts 
and  duties  so  as  to  heighten  the  romance;  and  so  we 
all  say  'How  wonderfully  true  to  nature!'  and  feel  that 
the  theatre  is  the  happiest  sphere  for  us  all.  Heroes 
and  heroines  are  to  be  depended  on :  there  is  no  more 
chance  of  their  acting  prosaically  than  there  is  of  a 
picture  in  the  Royal  Academy  having  stains  on  its 
linen,  or  blacks  in  its  sky.  But  in  real  life  it  is  just 
the  other  wTay.  The  incompatibility  is  not  in  the 
world,  but  in  ourselves.  Your  father  is  a  romantic 
man;  and  so  am  I;  but  how  much  of  our  romance 
have  we  ever  been  able  to  put  into  practice?" 

"More  than  you  recollect,  perhaps,"  said  Madge, 
unmoved  (for  constant  preoccupation  with  her  own 
person  had  made  her  a  bad  listener),  "but  more  than 
I  shall  ever  forget.  There  has  been  one  piece  of 
romance  in  my  life — a  very  practical  piece.  A  per- 
fect stranger  once  gave  me,  at  my  mere  request,  all 
the  money  he  had  in  the  world." 

"Perhaps  he  fell  in  love  with  you  at  first  sight.  Or 
perhaps — which  is  much   the  same  thing — he  was  a 

fool." 

"Perhaps  so.      It  occurred  at    Paddington  Station 

some  years  ago." 


4-  Love  Among  the  Artists 

"Oh!  Is  that  what  you  are  thinking  of?  Well,  that 
is  ..  od  illustration  of  what  I  am  say  in;.  Did  any 
romance  come  out  of  that?  In  three  weeks,  time 
you  were  grubbing  away  at  elocution  with  me  at  so 
much  a  lesson. " 

"I  know  that  no  romance  came  out  of  it — for  you." 

"So  yon  think,"  said  Jack  complacently;  "but 
romance  comes  out  of  everything  for  me.  Where  do 
yon  sir  the  supplies  for  my  music?     And 

what  passion  there  is  in  that! — what  fire — what  dis- 
regardof  conventionality!  In  the  music,  you  under- 
stand: not  in  my  everyday  life." 

"Your  art,  then,  is  enough  for  you,"  said  Madge,  in 
a  touching  tone. 

"I  like  to  hear  you  speak,"  observed  Jack:  "you  do 
it  very  well.  Yes:  my  art  is  enough  for  me,  more 
than  I  have  time  and  energy  for  occasionally.  How- 
ever, I  will  tell  you  a  little  romance  about  myself 
which   may  do  you   some   good.      Eh?     Have  you   the 

patience  to  listen?" 

"!  ,  ,  •  "   echoed  Madge,   in  a  low  steady  voice. 

"Try  whether  you  can  tire  me." 

"Very  well:  you  shall  hear.  You  must  know  that 
when,  alter  a  good  many  years  of  poverty  and 
neglect,  I  found  myself  a  known  man,  earning  over  a 
hundred  a  year,  I  felt  for  a  while  as  if  my  house  was 
built  and  I  had  no  more  to  do  than  to  put  it  in  repair 
from  time  to  time — much  as  you  think  you  have 
m  acting,  and  need  only  learn  a  new 

part  occasionally  to  keep  your  place  on  the  stage. 
And  so  it  came  about  that  I — Owen  Jack — began  to 
languish  in  my  solitude;  to  pine  for  a  partner;  and,  in 
short,  to  suffer  from  all  those  symptoms  which  you  so 


Love  Among  the  Artists  429 

admirably  described  just  now."  He  gave  this 
account  of  himself  with  a  derision  so  uncouth  that 
Madge  lost  for  the  moment  her  studied  calm,  and 
shrank  back  a  little.  "I  was  quite  proud  to  think  that 
I  had  the  affections  of  a  man  as  well  as  the  inspiration 
of  a  musician ;  and  I  selected  the  lady ;  fell  in  love  as 
hard  as  I  could;  and  made  my  proposals  in  due  form. 
I  was  luckier  than  I  deserved  to  be.  Her  admiration 
of  me  was  strictly  impersonal ;  and  she  nearly  had  a 
fit  at  the  idea  of  marrying  me.  She  is  now  the  wife 
of  a  city  speculator;  and  I  have  gone  back  to  my  old 
profession  of  musical  student,  and  quite  renounced 
the  dignity  of  past  master  of  the  art.  I  sometimes 
shudder  when  I  think  that  I  was  once  within  an  ace  of 
getting  a  wife  and  family." 

"And  so  your  heart  is  dead?" 

"No:  it  is  marriage  that  kills  the  heart  and  keeps  it 
dead.  Better  starve  the  heart  than  overfeed  it. 
Better  still  to  feed  it  only  on  fine  food,  like  music. 
Besides,  I  sometimes  think  I  will  marry  Mrs.  Simpson 
when  I  grow  a  little  older." 

"You  are  jesting:  you  have  been  jesting  all  along. 
It  is  not  possible  that  a  woman  refused  your  love." 

"It  is  quite  possible,  and  has  happened.  And," 
here  he  rose  and  prepared  to  go,  "I  should  do  the 
same  good  service  to  a  woman,  if  one  were  so  foolish 
as  to  persuade  herself  on  the  same  grounds  that  she 
loved  me." 

"You  would  not  believe  that  she  could  love  you  on 
any  deeper  and  truer  grounds?"  said  Madge,  rising 
slowly  without  taking  her  eyes  off  his  face. 

"Stuff!  Wake  up,  Miss  Madge;  and  realize  what 
nonsense  you  are  talking.     Rub  your  eyes  and  look  at 


4/  Love  Among  the  Artists 

me,  a  Kobold — a  Cyclop,  as  that  fine  woman  Mrs. 
Herbert  once  described  inc.  What  sane  person  under 
forty  would  be  likely  to  tall  in  love  with  me?  And 
what   do    I  about    women    over    forty,     except 

perhaps  Mrs.  Herbert — or  Mrs.  Simpson'  I  like  them 
young  and  beautiful,  like  you."  Madge,  as  if  uncon- 
sciously, raised  her  hand,  half  offering  it  to  him.  He 
took  it  promptly,  and  continued  humorously,  "And  I 
love  you,  and  have  always  done  so.  Who  could  know 
such  a  lovely  woman  and  fine  .ins  as  you  without 
loving  her?  I'  :t,"  he  added,  shaking  her  finders 
warningly,  "you  must  not  love  me.  My  time  for 
playing  Romeo  was  over   before  you  ever  saw  no 

and  Juliet  must  not   fall  in  love  with  Friar  Lawrence, 
hen   he  is  a  great  compos-  :\  " 
"Not  if  1.  " — and   she  can   help    it,"  said 

Madge  with        mn  Badness,  letting  her  hand  drop  as 

he  r«  it 

"Not   on    any   account,  J      k.       MC  ."    he 

added,  turn::         I    I  usly:    "we  are  not  a  pair, 

yon  and    I.      I   I  to   respect  myself:    do  you 

rn  to  know  v  We  two  are  artists,  as  you  arc 

aware.  Well,  then  is  an  art  that  is  inspired  by  noth- 
ing but  a  pa  r  shamming;  and  that  is  yours,  so 

far.      T  is   an   art  which    is   inspired   by  a  passi< 

r  beauty,  but  only  in  men  who  can  nc         isociate 
beauty  with  a  li        That  is  my  art.      M        r  that  and 

von  will  be  able  to  make  true  lov<  At  present  you 
only  know  how  to  make  \es,  which  is  too  common 
an  accomplishment  to  interest  n  You  see  you  have 
not  quite  finished  you  lessons  yet.      Go  klbye." 

"Adieu,"  said  Madge,  like  a  statue. 

He  walked  out  in  the  most  prosaic  manner  possible; 


Love  Among  the  Artists  431 

and  she  sank  on  the  ottoman  in  an  attitude  of  despair, 
and — finding  herself  at  her  ease  in  it,  and  not  -under- 
standing him  in  the  least — kept  it  tip  long  after  he,  by 
closing  the  door,  had,  as  it  were,  let  fall  the  curtain. 
For  it  was  her  habit  to  attitudinize  herself  when  alone 
quite  as  often  as  to  her  people,  in  whose  minds  the 
pleasure  of  attitudinizing  is  unalloyed  by  association 
with  the  labor  of  breadwinning. 

Jack,  meanwhile,  had  let  himself  out  of  the  house. 
It  had  become  dusk  by  this  time;  and  he  walked 
away  in  a  sombre  mood,  from  which  he  presently 
roused  himself  to  shake  his  head  at  the  house  he  had 
just  left,  and  to  say  aloud,  ' '  You  are  a  bold-faced  jade. ' ' 
This  remark,  which  was  followed  by  muttered  impre- 
cations, was  ill-received  by  a  passing  woman  who, 
applying  it  to  herself,  only  waited  until  he  was  at  a 
safe  distance  before  retorting  with  copious  and  shrill 
abuse,  which  soon  caused  many  persons  to  stop  and 
stare  after  him.  But  he,  hardly  conscious  of  the 
tumult,  and  not  suspecting  that  it  had  anything  to  do 
with  him,  walked  on  without  raising  his  head,  and 
was  presently  lost  to  them  in  the  deepening  dark- 
ness. 

All  this  time,  Charlie,  who  had  been  among  the 
first  to  leave  Madge's  rooms,  was  wandering  about 
Kensington  in  the  neighborhood  of  Herbert's  lodging. 
He  felt  restless  and  unsatisfied,  shrinking  from  the 
observation  of  the  passers-by,  with  a  notion  that  they 
might  suspect  and  ridicule  the  motive  of  his  lurking, 
there.  He  turned  into  Campden  Hill  at  last,  and 
went  to  his  sister's.  Mary  usually  had  visitors  on 
Sunday  evenings;  and  some  of  them  might  help  him 
to  pass  away  the  evening  pleasantly  in  spite  of  Hoskyn's 


Love  Among  the  Artists 

pre  Perhaps  even — but  here  lie  shook  oil  further 

•dilation,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Any  me  upsta  sly  of  the  maid, 

as  he  hung  up  his  hat. 

"'  »:.'..  one  lady,  sir.     Mrs.  Herbert." 

king  within   him   s  make  a  spring  at 

the  name.      II-  need  at  himself  in  the  mirror  before 

ling   into   the   dra.  om,   where,  to   his   extreme 

disappointment,  he  found  Mary  conversing,  not  with 

lb  ,  but    with    his    mother.      She  had  but 

just  arrived,  as  I  lining  to  Mary  that  she  had 

returned  tin  :         from  a  p:  enee  in 

1.      Cha  inters  with 

Mrs.   Herbert;   for  she  had  \vn   him   as  a  boy,  and 

had  not  yet       I  out  the  I  of  f  him  as  on 

>,  bearing  that    11  as  in   another  room,  smok- 

ing, he  pi  .ml   went  off  to 

in  him,        ring  the  1  -her. 

''You   v  — ?"       aid    Mary,    resuming   the 

h  hi  had  Interrupted. 

"I   v  tid  Mrs.    Herbert,   "that  I  have 

in  n  alii'  nth   the  iiv  t  whieh 

and   opinions.  .aline 

Is  me  that    I   ha\  ernal    instinct;    but   then 

Geraldine  ha  and  d  I  quite  know  what 

•at.      I  .    Adrian    as   a  failu: 

and  I  really  cannot  an   interest  in  a  man  who  is  a 

failure.      His  being  m  D   only  makes  the  fact  disap- 

Lnting  to  me  pel  I    retain  a  kind  of  n\. 

■n   for  my   '        ;  but  of  what  v.  that  to  him, 

since    he    has  □   up  his    practice   of   stabbing  me 

th:         h    it?     I   would  i   him  if    he   were   ill;  and 

help  him   if  he   were    in   trouble;  but  as  to  maintain- 


Love  Among  the  Artists  433 

ing  a  constant  concern  on  his  account,  really  I  do  not 
see  why  I  should.  You,  with  your  own  little  dear 
one  a  fresh  possession — almost  a  part  of  yourself  still, 
doubtless  think  me  very  heartless;  but  you  will  learn 
that  children  have  their  separate  lives  and  interests  as 
completely  independent  of  their  parents  as  the 
remotest  strangers.  I  do  not  think  Adrian  would 
even  like  me,  were  it  not  for  his  sense  of  duty.  You 
will  understand  some  day  that  the  common  notion  of 
parental  and  filial  relations  are  more  unpractical  than 
even  those  of  love  and  marriage. ' ' 

Mary,  who  ^had  already  made  some  discoveries  in 
this  direction,  did  not  protest  as  she  would  have  done 
in  her  maiden  time.  "What  surprises  me  chiefly  is 
that  Mrs.  Herbert  should  have  been  rude  to  you,"  she 
said.  "I  doubt  whether  she  is  particularly  fond  of 
me:  indeed,  I  am  sure  she  is  not;  but  nothing  could 
be  more  exquisitely  polite  and  kind  than  her  manner 
to  me,  especially  in  her  own  house." 

"I  grant  you  the  perfection  of  her  manners,  dear. 
She  was  not  rude  to  me.  Not  that  they  are  exactly  the 
manners  of  good  society ;  but  they  are  perfect  of  their 
kind,  for  all  that.  Hush!  I  think — did  I  not  hear 
Adrian's  voice  that  time?" 

Adrian  was,  in  fact,  speaking  in  the  hall  to  Hoskyn, 
who  had  just  appeared  there  with  Charlie  on  his  way 
to  the  drawing-room.  Aurelie  was  with  her  husband. 
They  all  went  for  a  moment  into  the  study,  which 
served  on  Sunday  evenings  as  a  cloak-room. 

"I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Herbert,"  said  Hoskyn, 
officiously  helping  Aurelie  to  take  off  her  mantle,  "I 
am  exceedingly  glad  to  see  you. ' ' 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Aurelie;  "but  this  is  quite  wrong. 


I  vi  Love  Among  the  Artist 

It  is  you  who  should  render  me  a  visit  in  this  moment, 
because    I    ask  yon    to  dinfl    with   me;   and    you   do  not 

come. " 

"Yon  have  turned  up  at  a  very  good  time,'    said 

Charlie  mischievously.     "Mrs.   Herbert  is  upstairs." 
"My  mother!'"  said  Adrian,  in  consternation. 

"Shall  we  go  upstairs?"  said  Hoskyn,  leading  the 

way  with  resolute  cheerfulness. 

Irian  looked  at  Aurelie.  She  had  dropped  the 
lively  manner  in  which  she  had  spoken  to  Hoskyn, 
and  was  now  moving  towards  the  door  with  ominous 
grace  and  calm. 

"Aurelie,"  he  said,  detaining  her  in  the  room  for  a 
moment:  "my  mother  is  here.  You  will  speak  to  her 
— for  my  sake — will  you  not?" 

She  only  raised  her  hand  to  signify  that  she  was  not 
to  be  troubled,  and  then,  without   heeding  his  look  of 

pain  and  disappointment,  passed   out   and   follow' 

Hoskyn   to   the   drawing-room,  where    Mary  and    Ml 

Herbert,     having    h<  her      foreign     voice,     were 

waiting,  scarcely  less  disturbed  than  Adrian  by  their 
fear  of  how  she  might  act. 

"Mrs.  Herbert  junior  has  actually  condescended  to 
pay  you  a  visit,  Mary,"  said  Hoskyn. 

"How  d  11  do?"  said  Mary,  with  misgiving.  "I 
am  so  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"So  often   have    I    I  h   myself  not  to  have 

called  on  my   friend  Aurelie   in  her  sweetest 

voice,  "that  I  yielded  to  Adrian  at  the  risk  of  derang- 
ing you  by  coming  on  the  Sunday  evening."  A  pause 
followed,  during  which  she  looked  inquisitively 
around.  "All!'  she  exclaimed,  with  an  air  of  sur- 
prise  and  pleasure,  as  she  recognized   Mrs.  Herbert, 


Love  Among  the  Artists  435 

"is  it  possible?  You  are  again  in  London,  madame." 
She  advanced  and  offered  her  hand.  Mrs.  Herbert, 
who  had  sat  calmly  looking  at  her,  made  the  greeting 
as  brief  as  possible,  and  turned  her  attention  to 
Adrian.  Nevertheless,  Aurelie  drew  a  chair  close  to 
hers,  and  sat  down  there. 

"You  are  looking  very  well,  mother,"  said  Adrian. 
"When  did  you  return?" 

"Only  yesterday,  Adrian."  There  was  a  brief 
silence.  Adrian  looked  anxiously  at  Aurelie ;  and  his 
mother  mutely  declined  to  look  at  her. 

"But  behold  what  is  absurd!"  said  Aurelie.  "You, 
madame,  who  are  encore  so  young — so  beautiful—" — 
here  Mrs.  Herbert,  who  had  turned  to  her  with 
patient  attention,  could  not  hide  an  expression  of 
wonder — "you  are  already  a  grandmother.  Adrian 
has  what  you  call  a  son  and  heir.     It  is  true." 

"Yes,  I  am  aware  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert 
coolly. 

A  slight  change  appeared  for  an  instant  in  Aurelie 's 
face;  and  she  glanced  for  a  moment  gravely  at  her 
husband.  He,  with  disgust  only  half  concealed, 
said,  "You  could  not  broach  a  subject  less  interest- 
ing to  my  mother,"  and  turned  away  to  speak  to 
Mary. 

"Adrian,"  began  Mrs.  Herbert,  who  found  herself 
unexpectedly  disturbed  by  the  implied  imputation  of 

want  of  feeling:  "I  do  not  think "     Then,  as  he 

was  not  attending  to  her,  she  turned  to  Aurelie  and 
said,    "You    really   must  not  accept  everything  that 
Adrian  says  seriously.     Pray  tell  me  all  about  your 
■  boy — my  grandson,  I  should  say." 

"He  is  like  you,"  said  Aurelie,  trying  to  conceal  the 


43^ 


Love  Amono  the  Artists 


chill  which  had  fallen  upon  her.  "Perhaps  you  will 
like   to  see   him.      If  so,   I  shall  briny  him  to  you,  if 

u  will  permit  me. " 

"I  shall  be  very  glad,"  Baid  Mrs.  Herbert,  rather 
surprised.     "Let  me  say  that  I  have  been  expecting 

U  i"  call  on  me  for  s<>me  time." 

"You  are  very  good,'     aid  Aurelie.     "But  think  of 

h<>w  1  In  I  am  alwa;  ging;  and  you  also  are 

seldom  in  London.     Besides,  wh<  .e  is  an  artist  one 

fleets  thin,  Porget,   I  pray  you,  my — my — ach!   I 

not  know   how  to  it.      But    I   will   come  to  you 

with     M  ur    Jean     S;:e;:ym  Herbert.        That 

reminds  me:  I  know  not  your  address 

Mrs.  11  upplicd  the  i  information;  and 

the     conversat;  then  i    1     amicably     with 

oo         aal  help  £r  om  Eloskyn  and  Charli<         Mary  and 

.Adrian   had   with  another   part  of  the  room, 

and  were   alr<  I    in   a   discussion.      In   the 

course  of  it  Mary  remarked  that  matters  were  evidently 

smooth  between  the  tw  >  Mrs,  Herberts. 

"I  am  glad  of  it,'  id  Adrian,  not  looking  glad. 
44 1  v.  'Scd  I  k  Aurelie  in  fault  on  that  point; 

but  I  see  plainly  enough  now  how  the  coolness  was 
brought  .'.t.       I  t   ha\  Aurelie  at 

all  if  she  had  repaid   my  n.  's  insolence — I  do  not 

think  that  at  all  too  Strong  a  word — in  kind.  Poor 
Aurelie!     I  have  ab  .  all  this  time  etly  thinking 

hardly  of  her   for  havir..  I    thought,  rebuffed  my 

mother.  Unjust  and  stupid  that  I  am  not  to  have 
known  better  from  my  lifelong  experience  of  the  one, 
and  my  daily  observation  of  the  other!  Aurelie  has 
conciliated  her  to-night  solely  because  I  begged  her  to 
do  so  as  wc  came  upstairs.     You  cannot  deny  that  my 


Love  Among  the  Artists  437 

wife  can  be  perfectly  kind  and  self-sacrificing  when- 
ever there  is  occasion  for  it." 

"I  cannot  deny  it!  Adrian:  yon  speak  as  though  I 
were  in  the  habit  of  disparaging  her.  Yon  are  quite 
wrong.  No  one  can  admire  her  more  than  I.  My 
only  fear  is  that  she  is  too  sweet,  and  may  spoil  you. 
How  could  I  resist  her?  Even  your  mother,  preju- 
diced as  she  certainly  was  against  her,  has  yielded. 
You  can  see  by  her  face  that  she  has  given  up  the 
battle.  I  think  we  had  better  join  them.  We  have 
a  very  rude  habit  of  getting  into  a  corner  by  ourselves. 
I  am  sure,  in  spite  of  all  you  say,  that  Mrs.  Herbert  is 
too  fond  of  you  to  like  it." 

"Mrs.  Herbert  is  a  strange  being,"  said  Adrian, 
rising.  "I  no  longer  pretend  to  understand  her  likes 
and  dislikes." 

Mary  made  a  mental  note  that  Aurelie  had  probably 
had  more  to  say  on  the  subject  of  what  she  saw  in  the 
studio  than  Adrian  had  expected.  The  general  con- 
versation which  ensued  did  not  run  on  personal 
matters.  Aurelie  was  allowed  to  lead  it,  as  it  was 
tacitly  understood  that  the  interest  of  the  occasion  in 
some  manner  centred  in  her.  Mrs.  Herbert  laugh- 
ingly asked  her  for  the  secret  of  managing  Adrian; 
but  she  adroitly  passed  on  to  some  other  question, 
and  would  not  discuss  him  or  in  any  way  treat  him 
more  familiarly  than  she  did  Hoskyn  or  Charlie. 

Later  on,  Hoskyn  proposed  that  they  should  go 
downstairs  to  a  room  which  communicated  with  the 
garden  by  a  large  window  and  a  small  grassy  terrace. 
As  the  night  was  sultry,  they  readily  agreed,  and  were 
soon  seated  below  at  a  light  supper,  after  which 
Hoskyn  strolled  out  into  the  garden  with  Adrian  to 


Love  Among  the  Artists 


.tnoti'        ..ar,  a  shew  a  recently  purchased 

hose  and  lawnmower,  it  being  his  habit  to  require  his 
visitors  to  in  t  themselves  in  his  latest  acquisitions, 
whether  of  children,  furniture  or  gardening  imple- 
ments. Mrs.  Herbert,  who,  d<  the  glory  of  the 
moon,  could  q  '  me  her  belief  that  fresh  air, 
to  be  safely  sat  in,  should  '        mpered  by  a  roof,  did 

•  '                         and    Mary  felt   bound 

to  remain  in   tl.  m  with  her.      Aurelie   walked   out 

to  the  ed  clasped  her  hands  behind 

me  rapt  in  i         mplal       of  the  cloud- 

ky,  which    was   like    a    vast   moonlit    plain.       I  lor 
attention  led   by  the   voice  of   Charlie  beside 

her. 

"Awfully  jolly  night,  isn't  it,  Mrs.  Herbert?" 
"Yes,  it  is  v 

"I    sup  »U    find    no   end   of   poetry  in  all  those 

tars." 

"Poet  I    am     not    at     all     p<  Monsieur 

'I  don't  altogeth<  thai        □  know.     You 

look  | 

"It  is  tin  mistake  me.     They  are 

ry  ar'        ry.     Tl:   f        .  'Ma  l<  moiselle         ympl 

has   such    and    BUCh    a   face   and    figure.      In  our  minds 
such  a  f.  :ul   f;  I  th   poetry.      There- 

fore  must   she   be  ic.      We  will   have   it  so;  and  if 

she    i  Lnt   u  ry   angry  with   her.' 

And  1  d  int  them.      When  they  talk  poetically 

of  music  and  thing  m  impatient  myself  to  be  at  home 

with  ,  who  never  I  such   things,  and  the 

bambino y  who  never  talks  at  all.  What,  think  you, 
do  I  find  in  those  stars?     I  am  looking  for  Aurelie  and 


Love  Among  the  Artists  439 

Thekla  in  what  you  call  Charles's  wain.  Aha!  I  did 
not  think  of  that  before.  You  are  Monsieur  Charles, 
to  whom  belongs  the  wain." 

"Yes,  I  have  put  my  hand  to  the  plough  and 
turned  back  often  enough.  What  may  Aurelie  and 
Thekla  be?" 

"Aurelie  is  myself;  and  Thekla  is  my  doll.  In  my 
infancy  I  named  a  star  after  every  one  whom  I  liked. 
Only  very  particular  persons  were  given  a  place  in 
Charles's  wain.  It  was  the  great  chariot  of  honor; 
and  in  the  end  I  found  no  one  worthy  of  it  but  my  doll 
and  myself.  Behold  how  I  am  poetic !  I  was  a  silly 
child ;  for  I  forgot  to  give  my  mother  a  star — I  forgot 
all  my  family.  When  my  mother  found  that  out  one 
day,  she  said  I  had  no  heart.  And,  indeed,  I  fear  I 
have  none." 

"Heaven  forbid!" 

"Look  you,  Monsieur  Charles,"  she  said,  with  a 
sudden  air  of  shrewdness,  unclasping  her  hands  to 
shake  her  finger  at  him:  "I  am  not  what  you  think  me 
to  be.  I  am  the  very  other  things  of  it.  I  have  the 
soul  commercial  within  me." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  he  said  eagerly;  "for  I  want 
to  make  a  business  proposal  to  you.  Will  you  give 
me  lessons?" 

'Give  you  lesson!     Lesson  of  what?" 
Lessons  in  playing.     I  want  awfully  to  become  a 
good  pianist ;  and  I  have  never  had  any  really  good 
teaching  since  I  was  a  boy." 

"  Vraiment?  Ah!  You  think  that  as  you  persevered 
so  well  in  the  different  professions,  you  will  find  it 
easy  to  become  a  player.     Is  it  not  so?" 

Not  at  all.     I  know  that  playing  requires  years  of 


(t 


it 


1  i  Love  Among  the  Artist 

[•severance.     But  I  think  I  can  persevere  if  jrou  will 
teach  me." 

ienr  Charl<  re — what  shall  I  call  you? 

Y«>u  arc  an  ingenious  infant,  I  think." 

"Don't   make   fun   i  Mrs.    Herbert.      I'm  per- 
fectly in   ear "      Here,  to  his  confusion,  his  voice 

broke  with  emotion. 

"Yon  think  I  am  mocking  youl  .id,  not  seem- 

ii:  tice  t:  it 

"I    am   not   fool   ei.  .    to  suppose   that   you   care 

1  think,' '  he  -possi 

sion.      "I    know   you   w   a't  me   the   lessons.      I 

knew  it  before.  " 

'  'And  v  ;hcn  did  y 

"!  I  love  you,"  lie  '.,  with  Bymptoms 

s.       "  I   Li  : :   " 

'Do   you   see    my 
husband  there  Looking  I     _     u?  not  know 

that    it    is    \  ..    thing    tO    n: 

Remem  Monsieur  Charles,   y<        re   quite  sober 

.v.       I  shall  I  V"U  as  I 

"I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Charlie,  :  stfallen, 

hah'-  rate,      "I    know   it'  :    I    felt   it   the 

ill    ment    I    had   said  it.      But  I    Can't  always  act   lik< 
the  world.      I  wish  I  had  never  met  you." 
And    why'     I    Like  v    well    when    you    are 

But  thi  -  twice  th  •        i  forget   to 

be  an  hon<    I        itleman.     Is  it  not  dishonorable  thus 
to  en  ur  fri  [f  Monsieur  H        rt  had  a  fine 

watch,  won!  :  wish  t  it?      No,  the  thought 

that  it  was  his   would   i.  h — would   hinder  you  to 

form  such  sh.      Well,  you  must  look  upon  me  as 

a  watch  of  his.     Yon  must  not  even  think  such  things 


Love  Among  the  Artists  441 

as  you  have  just  said.  I  will  not  be  angry  with  you, 
Monsieur  Sutherland,  because  you  are  very  young, 
and  you  have  admirable  qualities.  But  you  have  done 
wrong." 

Before  he  could  reply,  she  moved  away  and  joined 
her  husband  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  Charlie,  with 
his  mouth  hanging  open,  stared  at  her  for  some 
seconds,  and  then  went  into  the  supper  room,  where 
he  incommoded  Mary  and  Mrs.  Herbert  by  lounging 
about,  occasionally  taking  a  grape  [from  the  table  or 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  wine.  At  last  he  strolled  to 
the  drawing-room,  where  he  was  found  with  a  book 
in  his  hand,  pretending  to  read,  by  the  others  when 
they  came  upstairs  some  time  after.  He  did  not 
speak  again  until  he  bade  farewell  to  the  elder  Mrs. 
Herbert,  who  departed  under  Hoskyn's  escort. 
Aurelie,  before  following  her  example,  went  to  the 
nursery  with  Mary,  to  have  a  peep  at  Master  Richard 
Hoskyn,  as  he  lay  in  his  cot. 

"He  smiles,"  said  Aurelie.  "What  a  charming 
infant!  The  bambino  never  smiles.  He  is  so  t?'iste1 
like  Adrian!"  As  they  turned  to  leave  the  room,  she 
added,  "Poor  Adrian!  I  think  of  going  to  America  this 
year;  but  he  does  not  know.  You  will  take  care  of 
him  whilst  I  am  away,  will  you  not?" 

Mary,  seeing  that  she  was  serious,  was  puzzled  how 
to  reply.  "As  far  as  I  can,  I  will,  certainly,"  she 
said  after  some  hesitation.  Then,  laughing,  she  con- 
tinued, "It  is  rather  an  odd  commission." 

Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  Aurelie,  still  serious. 
He  has  great  esteem  for  you,  madame — greater  than 
for  no  matter  what  person  in  the  world." 

Mary  opened  her  lips  to  say,   "Except  you";    but 


1  ( 
K 


w- 


I  ,<  »ve  Among  the  Artists 


somehow  sin;  did  not  dare,      Instead,  she  remarked 
that  perhaps  Adrian    would    accompany  his  wife  to 

America.      The    trip,     she     si:       -     ted,    WOttld     do    him 

'd. 

,    no,'      said    Aurelie,    quickly.       "lie    does    not 

breathe  freely  in  the  artists'  room  at  a  concert     He  is 

•  ait   of   place   the:  My  mother   will   come    with  me. 

Do   not    speak    of   it   to   him  yet:    I    know   not  whether 
th(  me  a  sufficient  sum.      But  even 

should    I    not  go,     I    shall    Still    be    much    away.      As    I 
have    told    you,   I    leave    Kr  1  for   six  weeks  Oil  the 

first  of   next   month.      Yon    will   not   sutler   Adrian   to 

mope;  an  to  him  of  his  pictures,  about 

which  I  am  s  ';.  " 

" I  will         my  best, "  said  Mary,  privately  thinking 

that  Aurelie    was    tru!       an    una      >untable    person. 
Whilst  she  was  .'.■•  g,  they  re-entered  the  draw- 

ing-room. 

.  I  am  ready. " 
"Y  id  Herbert     "  t,  Mary." 

"I  think  I  heard  you  say  that   Mrs.   Herbert  is  K°in£ 
off  on  a  Ion-'  tour,"  :arlie,  coming  forward,  and 

speaki:  Idly,  though  his  face  was  very  red. 

Irian.      "X   t  a  very  long-  tour  though, 
thank  goodness. " 

Then    I   shall   not   sec   her  again — at   least  not   for 

me    time.      I    '  made   up   my   mind   to  take  that 

st  in  the   Conolly  my's   branch  at    Leeds;  and 

I   shall   be   oil  before    Mrs.  Herbert  returns  from  the 

ntinent " 

"This   is  a  sudden   resolution,"  said  Mary,  in  some 
astonishment. 

"I   hope   Mrs.    Herbert   thinks   it  a  wise  one,"  said 


Love  Among  the  Artists  443 

Charlie.  "She  has  often  made  fun  of  my  attempts  at 
settling  myself  in  the  world." 

"Yes,"  said  Aurelie,  "it  is  very  wise,  and  quite 
right.  Your  instinct  tells  you  so.  Good-night  and 
bon  voyage,  Monsieur  Charles." 

"My  instinct  tells  me  that  it  is  very  foolish  and  quite 
wrong,"  he  said,  taking  her  proffered  hand  timidly; 
"but  I  see  nothing  else  for  it  under  the  circumstances. 
I  don't  look  forward  to  enjoying  myself.  Goodbye." 
Mary  then  went  downstairs  with  her  guests;  but  he 
turned  back  into  the  room,  and  watched  their 
departure  from  the  window. 


The  End 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


5~i3130 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


